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THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 


.•-       •* 


" '  I  kept  thinking  you  might  sing  for  me  some  evening ' 


[Pace  204] 


THE  MAN 
FROM  HOME 


A  NOVEL  BY 

HARRY  LEON  WILSON 

FOUNDED  UPON  THE  PLAY 
BY  N.  BOOTH  TARKINGTON 
AND  HARRY  LEON  WILSON 


ILLUBTRATED   BT 

C.  H.  TAFFS 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 
1915 


*l  \  .COPTRKMIT,    1^15,  BY 

.  D^  :APFL^TON:  ^ND  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 

I.  A  Sparkling  Day  at  Sorrento        ...  1 

II.  Pike  op  Kokomo 27 

III.  Von  Grollerhagen  of  Nowhere     ...  45 

IV.  Some  Wit  as  to  Donkeys 59 

V.  A  Boy  and  Girl  Named  Simpson     ...  91 

VI.    The  Price  op  the  Honorable  Almeric  .       .  122 
VII.    Mr.  Pike  Sings  at  His  Work   .  .141 

VIII.    Concerning  a  Bandit 173 

IX.    As  TO  the  Human  Beings  in  Kokomo   and 

Elsewhere 191 

X.    Herr  von  Grollerhagen  Saves  Himself      .  211 

XI.    Mr.  Pike  Cross-examines 225 

XII.    Unsuspected  Romance  in  the  Past  op  His 

Lordship 241 

XIII.    Lord  Hawcastle  Displays  the  Better  Part  op 

Valor 262 

XrV.    Mr.  Pike  Crosses  A  Certain  River  .       .       .278 
XV.    In  Which  a  Song  is  Sung 293 


983iy;S 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FA.CINGI 
PAQB 


"'I  kept  thinking  you  might  sing  for  me  some 
evening '" Frontispiece 

"  *  Come,  is  that  all  you  have  to  tell  us  ?  *  "  .     .     .  16 

" '  If  you  give  me  up  I  shall  not  be  taken  alive — *  "        l60 

*' '  Oh,  Genevieve,  sweet  Genevieve '",...       306 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

CHAPTER  I. 

A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SOEBJENTQ  .    -.  -    ^ 

It  was  Italy  and  Sorrento;  and  so  perhaps 
the  utmost  of  beauty  that  Italy  can  anywhere 
achieve  on  a  full-sunned  day  of  early  December. 
A  sparkle  in  the  warm  air  saved  its  caresses 
from  what  might  have  been  a  cloying  sweetness, 
overladen  as  it  was  with  the  scent  from  blossom- 
ing vine  and  tree  that  covered  the  terraced 
hillsides.  Color  and  warmth  and  always  the 
sparkle.  Sorrento  sparkled,  and  the  Hotel  Re- 
gina  Margherita,  green-bowered  on  the  verge 
of  its  gray  cliff,  especially  sparkled,  to  dazzle  the 
eyes  of  beauty-seekers  who  might  first  behold 
it  from  the  brilliantly  stained  sea  below.  This 
sparkle,  moreover,  picked  out  the  tiny  villages 
setting  the  curve  of  the  coast  to  Naples  in  the 

1 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 


blurred  distance.  There  was  even  a  hint  of 
sparkle  ascending  the  gray  slopes  of  Vesuvius, 
smouldering  there  in  lazy,  almost  friendly 
menace. 

To  Miss  Eth^l  Granger-Simpson,  alone  for 
ibe  momeiit  in  tlie  green  garden  of  the  Regina 
JVl^gherlta-r-she  leaned  on  its  seaward  balus- 
trade to  face  the  enchanting  distance — ^lif e  it- 
self had  become  a  mere  series  of  sparkles;  life 
compacted  sheerly  of  beauty  and  exaltation,  a 
delectable  mystery  to  be  faced  with  joy-wid- 
ened eyes  and  welcomed  with  open  arms;  arms 
yearning,  fearless,  certain.  As  she  held  her 
young  gaze  to  the  sparkle  of  her  own  future, 
her  eyes  of  the  flesh  artlessly  symbohzed  this 
with  islands  far  out  in  that  painted  sea,  dim 
of  shape  but  misty-glorious  in  promise. 

As  for  the  general  picture,  the  girl  herself 
was  no  negligible  item  in  its  opulence.  Indeed, 
rather  a  tremendous  adventure  in  line  and  color 
she  would  have  been  for  any  painter.  The  fish- 
ermen thereabouts  and  those  who  made  music 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

for  money  spoke  of  her  quite  simply  as  "the 
most  beautiful  English  maiden,"  though  it  is 
true  that  one  of  these,  a  tried  observer  of  the 
English  fair,  had  been  more  than  a  little  both- 
ered by  the  smallness  of  her  feet.  Hearing  her 
speak,  you  would  have  thought  her  English, 
certainly ;  nor  would  your  first  delighted  glance 
have  unsettled  this  notion.  Not  until  after 
other  glances  had  been  contrived  would  some 
at  first  vague  doubt  have  sounded;  vague  so 
long  as  the  appraising  survey  was  content  with 
the  radiant  general  effect ;  vague,  in  short,  un- 
til it  came  to  question  the  small  nose  of  her. 
Here  distinctly  was  a  feature  to  revive  caution 
in  the  shrewd  observer;  not  to  lessen  his  de- 
light, be  it  soundly  remembered;  merely  to 
teach  him  that  snap  judgment  about  the  na- 
tionality of  beauteous  strangers  may  be  often 
faulty.  • 

"English — all  but  the  nose!"  we  seem  to  fol- 
low his  reflections.  Then,  further,  "But  with 
that  nose  she  can't  be  English  at  all.      So 

s 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

what  can  she  be?  Surely,  not  American,  and 
yet " 

Thus  our  shrewd  observer,  whom  we  need 
endow  with  but  moderate  shrewdness — enough 
to  divine  but  not  to  solve  the  mystery.  Leave 
him  then  to  a  speculation  not  less  joyous  be- 
cause unrewarded,  his  discreet  glance,  as  we 
hope,  returning  ever  and  again  to  the  small  but 
engaging  nose  that  so  defiantly  affirms  itself 
not  English. 

His  conclusion  is  sound.  The  English  nose 
is  indubitably  a  more  nearly  finished  product, 
often  enough  eloquent  with  disdain  for  other 
kinds  of  noses.  In  its  supreme  manifestation 
it  is  long  and  thin,  the  nostrils  empowered  to 
lift  delicately  should  the  possessor  be  moved  to 
express  disdain,  a  nose  gifted  for  the  finer 
manifestations  of  hauteur ;  a  nose,  moreover — 
may  it  not  be  put  bluntly? — superbly  adapted 
to  sniffing.  Indeed,  only  with  this  fashion  of 
nose  may  one  sniff  perfectly.  The  Darwinian 
might  suggest  that  a  race  with  an  inherent 

4 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

genius  for  sniffing  would  inevitably  evolve  this 
precise  nose,  though  that  is  beyond  our  scope. 

The  nose  in  question  falls  sadly  short  of  this 
type.  It  piquantly  suggests  alertness  and  a 
certain  wilfulness  of  action  in  its  possessor. 
One  might  argue  a  capacity  for  stubborn  ad- 
herence to  some  prized  plan  under  the  rudest 
sort  of  discouragement,  yet  detect  also  a  vast 
and  puzzling  capacity  for  surrender.  Then, 
too,  a  just  discernible  tilt  promises  irreverence 
— perhaps  at  some  critical  moment. 

"Surely  not  American,  and  yet — "  Thus 
again  our  fairly  sapient  physiognomist.  With 
our  superior  power  of  penetration  let  us  re- 
solve his  doubt  by  invading  unobtrusively  for 
a  moment  the  current  of  the  maiden's  own 
fancies. 

"Surely  not  American,  and  yet — "  And 
yet  she  was!  At  this  precise  instant  that  slight 
tilt  of  the  nose  is  more  than  wontedly  evident 
for  she  is  retrospectively  scanning  the  land  of 
her  birth— "the  States,"  as  she  has  akeady; 

5 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

learned  to  call  it.  Clear  and  harsh  are  its  out- 
lines under  that  nearer  vision  of  misty,  golden 
islands  and  a  present  in  which  one  meets  only 
the  right  sort  of  people.  Back  there  one  simply 
didn't  meet  them.  One  never  could,  alas !  meet 
them  there.  The  smoky,  ugly  point  in  her  vis- 
ion was  the  town  of  her  birth,  spreading  in  dull 
flatness  to  every  horizon,  peopled  by  beings 
worthy  enough,  perhaps,  in  their  crude,  dollar- 
hunting  way,  but  socially  quite,  quite  impossi- 
ble. And  she  was  out  of  it  forever,  away  from 
iti^  crudity,  away  from  its  awkward  strivings 
after  gentility,  its  piteous  failures,  its  vulgar 
complacencies,  away  from  that  fell  barren  and 
in  a  world  of  true  culture  mellowed  by  tradi- 
tion, peopled  by  beings  of  suavest  finish.  As 
a  practised  gourmet  might  enhance  his  gusto  at 
a  feast  by  recalling  some  famished  moment  of 
the  past,  so  she  now  gilded  this  already  re- 
fulgent present  of  hers  by  contrasting  it  with 
that  ignoble  life  she  had  left  behind. 

What  a  drab  little  provincial  she  had  been — 
6 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

and  her  brother  as  well — when  they  had  flown 
from  that  squalid  obscurity  to  the  great  world 
beyond  the  sea!  And  how  rapidly  they  had 
progressed,  how  finely  they  had  flowered  once 
they  were  free  from  the  confining  narrowness 
of — let  us  out  with  the  brutal  truth — of  Ko- 
komo !  But  two  years  away  from  that  and  they 
were  unquestioned  citizens  of  the  great  correct 
world,  consorting  on  terms  of  ostensible  equal- 
ity with  the  only  people  one  should  know — 
people  who  mattered. 

And  how  easily  it  had  all  come  about!  It 
seemed  to  the  girl  that  a  very  special  provi- 
dence had  directly  confided  that  flitting,  aspir- 
ing couple  to  the  skilled  directorship  of  one 
nobly  bom,  to  no  less  a  personage  than  the 
Lady  Victoria  Hermione  Trevelyan  Creech. 
It  had  more  than  once  been  intimated  by  confi- 
dantes of  Lady  Creech  that  she,  too,  regarded 
the  connection  as  having  been  decreed  by  a 
special  providence.  She  had  not,  it  was  ru- 
mored, found  beneath  her  dignity  the  accept- 

7 


THE  MAN  FROM   HOME 

ance  of  an  honorarium  for  services  royally 
rendered  in  guiding  her  young  charges  among 
the  shoals  of  European  society. 

But,  if  this  gossip  spoke  truly,  was  ever  re- 
ward so  abundantly  earned?  Had  there  not 
been  conferred  upon  the  once  obscure  descend- 
ants of  the  now  forever  obscure  John  Simpson 
of  Kokomo,  Indiana,  U.  S.  A.,  the  mantle  of  a 
prestige  far  too  effulgent  for  its  value  to  be 
computed  in  mere  American  dollars?  Indeed, 
the  nobly-born  one  had  shown  herself  to  be  no 
paltry  dabbler  with  half -measures.  When  the 
Lady  Victoria  Hermione  Trevelyan  Creech 
deigned  to  take  up  persons  she  did  it  whole- 
heartedly. No  mere  presenting  them  to  a  few 
of  the  right  sort  and  thereafter  allowing  them 
to  do  their  own  cUmbing.  No  such  slighting 
of  her  task.  After  a  few  discreet  and  wholly 
judicious  inquiries  to  prove  that  the  late  John 
Simpson  had  indeed  been  one  of  those  sordid 
American  money-grubbers — and  quite  vulgar- 
ly successful  in  his  low  pursuits — ^her  charges, 

8 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

had  been  actually  inducted  into  the  very  sacred 
inner  circle  of  her  own  family,  where,  more- 
over, they  had  been  welcomed,  warmed,  cher- 
ished,— almost,  it  would  seem,  guarded.  With 
what  unaffected,  fond  geniality  had  the  two 
young  things  been  received  by  his  lordship. 
Earl  of  Hawcastle,  that  polished  noble  who 
must  often  have  been  shocked  by  the  American 
rawness  of  his  sister-in-law's  charges!  With 
what  superb  tact  had  his  lordship's  long-time 
friend,  the  high-born  Madame  de  Champigny, 
choice  flowering  of  France's  old  noblesse,  la- 
bored to  correct  their  abundant  gaucheries 
without  seeming  to  remark  them!  And  how  tol- 
erantly had  his  son,  the  Honorable  Almeric  St. 
Aubyn,  striven  to  prevent  their  too-conscious 
brooding  over  the  soundless  depths  between  his 
station  and  their  own. 

As  to  this  attitude  of  the  Honorable  Al- 
meric, there  may  have  been  counsel,  admoni- 
tion, a  veiled  compulsion,  from  his  elders.  One 
may  but  guess  vulgarly  at  that.    At  least  it  is 

9 


THE   MAN  FROM  HOME 

certain  that  neither  Lady  Creech  nor  the  Earl 
of  Hawcastle  had  ever  evinced  the  faintest 
alarm  at  his  methodical  if  somewhat  spiritless 
attentions  to  the  crude  little  American  heiress. 
Open-eyed  to  the  affair,  they  yet  remained 
calm  in  the  face  of  the  menaced  mesalliance. 

The  stained  sea  below  the  cliff  continued  to 
glint  its  million  facets  up  to  the  eyes  of  the 
dreaming  girl.  "St.  Aubyn!"  she  murmured, 
and  beheld  over  the  misty  horizon  a  memorable 
line  of  that  ilk  setting  themselves  to  deeds  of 
high  emprise.  She  saw  them  at  Crecy  and 
Agincourt;  more  of  them  in  the  panoply  of 
Crusaders;  and  a  later  one,  heir  to  all  that 
shining  glory — ^Almeric  St.  Aubyn.  Almost 
wistfully  now  she  clad  him  in  the  knightly 
habiliments  of  those  illustrious  forbears.  "St. 
Aubyn!"  she  murmured  again,  softly  ecstatic. 
"And  that  will  be  my  name,  really  my  name!" 

But  let  us  not  too  crassly  profane  the  sancti- 
ties of  love.  A  less  direct  approach  would  be 
seemlier.    A  moment  longer  permit  the  girl  to 

10 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

face  that  enchanting  future  with  artless,  certain 
eyes  while  the  sea  sparkles  back  its  assurance. 
Let  us  turn  from  her  to  detect  something  al- 
most like  a  sparkle  in  the  languid  eyes  of  the 
Honorable  Almeric  St.  Aubyn  as  the  figure  of 
Miss  Ethel  Granger- Simpson  (and  that  was  a 
sparkle  indeed!)  entered  his  field  of  vision. 
She  was  going  to  mean  so  much  to  him — that 
is,  if  one  might  rely  upon  what  his  excellent 
father  had  been  able  to  learn  about  the  mighti- 
ness of  old  John  Simpson  as  a  hunter  of  Ameri- 
can dollars. 

We  catch  him  as  he  loiters  toward  the  girl,  a 
fair,  fresh-colored  youth  of  twenty-five  or  so,  in 
riding  garb  of  white  duck  at  the  moment. 
His  hat  of  Panama  straw  has  a  fold  of  light 
tan  and  white  silk  about  the  crown.  His  rid- 
ing-stock withfits  white  collar  becomes  a  puffed 
tie  below,  of  a  pink  that  harmonizes  gently 
enough  with  his  light  tan  waistcoat  and  his 
glistening  tan  boots.  He  approaches  the 
dreaming  maid  to  accost  her  with  that  simple 

11 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

directness  so  characteristic  of  his  unspoiled 
nature. 

"Saw  you  and  your  brother  havin'  a  sort  of 
a  talk  just  now.  A  couple  of  serious  beggars 
you  looked.    What  was  all  the  row?" 

His  methods,  it  may  be  said,  were  never  com- 
plex.   The  girl  shyly  faced  him. 

"We  were  talking  of  you — of  you  and  me," 
she  confessed.  And  she  made  it  a  confession, 
indeed!  But  the  Honorable  Almeric  was 
never  less  subtle. 

"My  word,  though,  but  you've  kept  me 
waitin'.  I  mean  to  say,  what's  the  answer  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing?" 

"The  answer?    Oh,  it's— it's  yes!" 

The  suitor  permitted  himself  the  gesture  of  a 
raised  hand  to  denote  hearty  rejoicing. 

"Jolly,  that!  Dare  say  we'll  hit  it  off .  Gov- 
ernor'll  be  pleased  too.  Been  a  bit  below  him- 
self lately,  the  Governor.  Fancy  this  may  buck' 
him  up.    What?" 

"Oh,  Almeric!  It's — it's — I  can't  make 
12 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

it  seem  true  yet.  I  must  go  off  alone  to  think 
it  all  out."  She  turned  away.  "But  the  an- 
swer is  yes — I  know  that  much!"  she  called 
back.  A  moment  later  she  was  running  with  a 
sort  of  guilty  delight  along  the  terrace  and  up 
the  steps  of  the  ivied  wing  that  held  her  apart- 
ment in  the  Hotel  Regina  Margherita. 

"Rather  rippin'  little  sort,  after  all,"  re- 
flected the  enamoured  one  as  she  vanished 
through  the  awninged  portal.  Then  he  turned 
wearily  to  gladden  his  august  relatives,  for 
down  a  shaded  aisle  of  cypress  now  advances 
the  Earl  of  Hawcastle  in  rather  pained  con- 
verse with  Lady  Creech.  We  take  him  as  he 
comes,  a  well-preserved,  well-groomed  man  of 
fifty-six,  with  close-clipped  gray  mustache  and 
graying  hair.  The  face  reveals,  perhaps,  some 
slight  traces  of  high  living,  yet  the  eyes  are 
quick  and  cool  and  shrewd;  capable  eyes,  one 
would  say.  He  carries  himself  well  in  the  fine- 
ly striped  suit  of  flannels  he  has  chosen.  His 
white  shoes,  the  hat  of  soft  straw  with  its  broad 

IS 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

ribbon,  the  cravat  of  pale  old-rose  crepe,  the 
stick  and  gloves  he  bears,  all  are  perfect  details 
in  a  faultless  ensemble.  We  are  left  with  an 
impression  of  high-bred  distinction.  His 
speech  as  he  addresses  his  companion  reaches  us 
as  that  of  an  English  gentleman  and  man  of 
the  vi^orld,  simple,  without  vocal  flourish.  A 
prepossessing  person,  this,  more  genial,  more 
cordially  inviting,  than  his  iron-gray  sister-in- 
law  who  is  always  formidable  and  often  forbid- 
ding. She,  it  would  be  judged,  tarries  in  the 
late  fifties,  tall,  rigidly  austere,  with  no  evil 
fripperies  of  dress,  but  with  a  manner !  She  is 
nodding  vexed  comprehension  to  the  speaker's 
words  as  they  approach.  Then  her  eyes  en- 
counter the  Honorable  Almeric  and  instantly 
engage  him  with  a  very  definite  fierceness. 
The  youth  now  sprawls  restfuUy  in  a  wicker 
chair.  He  has  lighted  a  cigarette  with  the 
gusto  of  one  who  has  dared  and  achieved.  The 
Earl  of  Hawcastle  hastens  forward  to  accost 
his  son  with  an  expectancy  rather  poignant. 

14 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

"Well,  well!"    This  was  crisply  nervous. 

The  Honorable  Almeric  favored  his  sire  with 
a  stare  of  ennui. 

"  Xo,  Governor!    'Lo,  Aunty!" 

"Well,  I  say!"  The  nervous  tensions  of  this 
communicated  itself  to  the  other.  He  bright- 
ened visibly. 

"Out  ridin'  this  mornin'  with  Miss  Granger- 
Simpson.  Rippin'  little  thing,  after  all,  isn't 
she?"  His  voice,  habitually  loud,  carried  an 
accent  somewhat  foppish  with  a  hint  of  the 
"Guardsman"  affectation  of  languor  and  in- 
difference. 

"Go  on!  Go  on!"  Here  was  no  languor, 
affected  or  otherwise.  Only  a  sharp  impa- 
tience. 

"And  don't  mumble  your  words !"  This  from 
Lady  Creech  with  the  tang  of  fierce  annoyance 
she  habitually  gave  the  phrase.  For  this  per- 
sonage wore  her  quite  evident  deafness  not  as 
a  mortal  infirmity,  rather  as  a  marked  distinc- 
tion— in  truth,  as  a  bitter  reproach  to  a  world 

15 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

of  lesser  folk  who  did  constantly  mumble  its 
words.  The  Honorable  Almeric  remained  im- 
passive, breathing  smoke  to  the  benign  sky  of 
Italy. 

"Yes.  Didn't  stop  long  with  her,  though." 

"Be  so  good  as  to  tell  us  why."  The  words 
are  inoffensive  but  too  evidently  his  lordship  is 
about  to  boil. 

"Well,  you  see,  a  sort  of  a  man  in  the  village, 
rum  sort  of  gaffer  with  silly  whiskers,  got  me 
to  go  look  at  a  bull-terrier  pup.  Wonderful 
little  beast  for  points  he  was.  Fancy  finding 
him  in  this  silly  foreign  sort  of  hole!  Jolly 
luck,  wasn't  it?  My  word!  He's  got  a  head  on 
him " 

His  lordship  has  really  boiled.  He  boils 
bitterly. 

"We'll  concede  his  tremendous  advantage 
over  you  in  that  respect.  Come,  is  that  all  you 
have  to  tell  us?" 

His  son  languidly  stifled  a  yawn.  "Oh,  no; 
she  accepted  me." 

16 


"'Come,  is  that  all  3011  have  to  tell  us 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

"Thank  God!  Thus  piously  and  with  an  ex- 
halation of  marked  relief  his  lordship  dropped 
to  a  seat  facing  his  son  and  beamed  fondly; 
upon  him. 

"But  of  course!"  This  from  Lady  Creech, 
resonant,  almost  indignant.  "But  of  course 
she'd  accept.  Why  shouldn't  she  accept?  How 
could  she  not  accept?    But  of  course!" 

"Quite  so!"  The  accepted  man  struggled 
with  another  yawn.  "I  say,  you  know,  I've 
made  her  awf'ly  happy!  She  had  to  go  off  to 
think  about  it.  Fancy  that!  A  queer  little  bit 
she  is — always  thinkin'.  Rather  rippin'  sort, 
though.  Dare  say  she'll  get  over  thinkin'  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing."  He  again  emitted 
smoke  to  the  placid  heavens. 

The  Earl  of  Hawcastle  was  now  breathing 
luxuriously  as  one  who  rests  after  some  des- 
perate scramble  up  a  hillside.  He  was  about  to 
speak  when  he  turned  alertly  at  the  sound  of 
nearing  voices. 

"The  brother,"  he  warned,  and  the  somewhat 
17 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

eager  expression  he  had  worn  relaxed  instantly 
to  a  fond,  smiling  candor  as  a  couple  ap- 
proached through  the  aisle  of  cypress. 

The  Comtesse  de  Champigny  flung  a  lilt  of 
a  laugh  ahead  of  them — ^the  Frenchwoman  of 
thirty,  or  as  little  more  as  makes  no  difference 
even  in  that  explicit  sunlight,  wholly  alive,  her 
piquant  face  ever  at  play,  bewitching  in  a 
tenderly  tinted  morning  frock  very  lately  from 
Paris.  Her  elaborately  dressed  hair  is  sur- 
mounted by  a  jaunty  toque.  Even  her  manner 
of  bearing  and  wielding  her  light  silk  parasol 
would  repay  earnest  study.  The  twain  are  at 
hand.  The  Comtesse  swims  radiantly  in  the 
infatuated  glance  of  none  other  than  Horace 
Granger-Simpson. 

Of  this  youth  of  twenty-one  it  may  at  once 
be  said  that  the  affair  of  his  nationality  would 
never  even  briefly  puzzle  our  physiognomist. 
Brother  Horace  is  cursed  with  features  that 
will  forever  be  flagrantly  American.  Nor  is  he 
imconscious  of  this  misfortune.    With  a  superb 

18 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

fortitude  he  labors  to  nullify  it  in  speech  and 
dress.  Horace  is  most  smartly  decked  in  flan- 
nels with  a  multitude  of  adjuncts — furbelows 
one  might  almost  say, — with  the  stamp  of  Re- 
gent Street  upon  them.  He  looks  confidently- 
forward  to  a  time  when  his  attire,  still  finely 
correct  in  all  its  essentials,  will  nevertheless  re- 
veal here  and  there  a  certain  grand  carelessness 
of  detail,  as  at  present  superbly  exposed  by  the 
two  gentlemen  before  him.  But  he  dares  not 
yet  relax.  For  the  present  Horace  has  to  be 
vastly  careful  about  cravats  and  spats  and  tie- 
pins  and  waistcoats.  Also  must  he  labor  with 
his  speech.  He  might  even  be  thought  more 
determinedly  English  in  his  speech  than  these 
illustrious  survivals  of  a  great  race  who  were 
bom  to  it.  Sometimes,  it  must  be  told,  he  for- 
gets his  accent.  But  not  often.  He  is  caution 
itself  in  this.  He  rushes  forward  now  to  greet 
the  Earl  of  Hawcastle  who  rises  buoyantly. 
There  is  a  cordial  clasp  of  the  hands. 

Charmed,  my  young  friend.    Charmed!    I 
19 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

can  think  of  no  happier  match  for  my  son,"  ex- 
claimed his  lordship  with  flawless  veracity. 

"You  know,  then?"  Horace  beamed.  "Isn't 
it  ripping!"  (He  must  remember  to  drop  that 
final  "g,"  but  there  are  times  .  .  .)  "I  fancied 
the  two  were  spooning  a  bit.  Really,  you 
know,  I'm  quite  overcome  by  it.  I  really  am, 
I  assure  you!"  Horace  had  no  need  to  assure 
them.  He  offered  his  hand  to  the  Honorable 
Almeric  in  a  manner  eloquently  overcome. 

"I've  made  her  awf'ly  happy,"  murmured 
the  latter,  forbearing  to  rise.  "Rippin'  little 
sort.    Goin'  about  thinkin'  all  over  the  place." 

"Thinkin'  of  the  great  future,"  responded 
Horace  quickly,  feeling  that  this  sort  of  thing 
should  be  extenuated. 

"Oh,  how  that  we  all  feel  so  much  delight 
over  that  great  future!"  This  adorably  from 
the  Comtesse,  her  glance  warming  brother 
Horace.  "And  when  is  the  time  of  the  cere- 
mony of  this  beautiful  marriage?" 

"Yes,  when?"  echoed  Horace. 

20 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

The  Earl  of  Hawcastle  appeared  to  consider 
this  for  the  first  time,  and  with  a  large,  vague 
carelessness. 

"Oh,  the  date?  I  dare  say  within  a  year, — 
two  years." 

The  Comtesse  flashed  him  a  curiously  flick- 
ering glance.  Horace  was  frankly  disap- 
pointed. 

"Oh,  hut  I  say,  you  know,  isn't  that  putting 
it  jolly  far  off?  The  thing  is  settled,  isn't  it? 
.Why  not  say  a  month  instead  of  a  year?" 

"Oh,  if  you  like,"  responded  his  lordship 
amiahly.  "I  dare  say  there's  no  real  objec- 
tion." 

The  Comtesse  prettily  clapped  her  hands, 
flashing  another  glance  at  his  lordship  in 
which  the  curious  might  have  read  frank  ad- 
miration. 

"But  I  do  like,  indeed!"  returned  Horace 
hurriedly.  "Why  not  let  them  marry  here  in 
Italy?" 

"Ah,  the  dashing  methods  of  you  Ameri- 

21 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

cans !  Next  you'll  be  saying,  *  Why  not  here  at 
Sorrento?' " 

"Well,  and  why  not,  indeed?  And  why 
should  it  not  be  in  a  fortnight?" 

His  lordship  was  plainly  in  no  mood  to  make 
more  than  a  humorous  resistance  to  such  ardor, 

"Ah,  you  wonderful  people,  you  are  whirl- 
winds. Yet  I  see  no  reason  why  it  should  not 
be  in  a  fortnight."  Here  his  lordship  managed 
a  goading  glance  at  his  finely  impassive  son. 
"Almeric  to  be  sure  is  all  impatience." 

The  Honorable  Almeric  contrived  a  slightly 
more  erect  posture  in  his  chair  and  raised  one 
hand  in  what  was  meant  to  be  an  ardent  ges- 
ture.   "Quite  so.  Governor!    Quite  so!" 

"You  see,"  continued  his  lordship.  "I  am 
taken  off  my  feet  by  these  impetuous  young 
people."  He  permitted  himself  a  moment's 
facetious  yet  slightly  cooler  calculation.  "Then 
shall  we  dispose  at  once  of  the  necessary  little 
details,  the — er — ^various  minor  arrange- 
ments, the — the  settlement?"     He  interrupt- 

«2 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

ed  himself  with  a  friendly  display  of  awkward- 
ness, though  still  beaming  upon  Horace.  "Of 
course,  as  a  man  of  the  world,  of  our  world, 
you  understand  there  are  those  annoying  for- 
malities in  the  way  of  a  settlement — ^that  sort 
of  thing." 

"But  of  course,  of  course,"  replied  Horace 
eagerly.  "Quite  so,  I  know  certainly,  certain- 
ly— a  settlement." 

"Beastly  bore,  all  that  sort  of  thing,"  mur- 
mured the  expectant  fiance. 

"We'll  have  no  difficulty  about  that,  my 
lioy,"  put  in  his  lordship  heartily.  "I'll  com- 
mimicate  with  my  solicitor  at  once,  and  he'll 
be  ready  to  come  on  when  we  need  him." 

"Ripping,  ripping!"  exclaimed  Horace. 
**And  I'll  cable  our  own  solicitor,  in  the  States, 
you  know — Ethel's  man  of  business — Ko- 
komo,  Indiana,  where  our  Governor  lived. 
I  mean  to  say,  he's  a  sort  of  guardian  of 
hers." 

It  could  not  be  said  that  his  lordship  flinched 
t$ 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

at  the  word,  yet  it  left  him  thoughtful.  "A  sort 
of  guardian —    What  sort?" 

Horace  was  reassuring.  "Some  tally  old 
duffer  of  a  lawyer.  Never  saw  him  that  I 
know  of.  You  see  we've  been  on  this  side  so 
much  and  there's  been  no  occasion  for  the  fel- 
low to  look  us  up,  but  he's  never  opposed  any- 
thing we  wrote  for.  Seems  to  be  an  easy- 
going old  chap." 

"But  would  his  consent  to  yoiu*  sister's  mar- 
riage— or  the  matter  of  the  settlement — ^be  a 
necessity?" 

"I  dare  say,  but  if  he  has  the  slightest  sense 
of  my  sister's  welfare  this  old  Mr.  Pike  couldn't 
oppose  the  alliance,  could  he  ?  He  would  be  the 
"^st  to  welcome  it,  wouldn't  he?" 

"Most  certainly  he  would — ^the  idea!" 
This  from  Lady  Creech  with  authority.  "How 
could  he  not?"  She  seemed  to  bridle  at  a  sup- 
posititious solicitor  who  might  insanely  prove 
obdurate.  The  Earl  of  Hawcastle  once  again 
breathed  without  restraint.     He  grasped  the 

24 


A  SPARKLING  DAY  AT  SORRENTO 

willing  hand  of  his  young  friend,  as  the  little 
group  moved  toward  the  hotel. 

"Then  my  solicitor  can  meet  your  man  here, 
the  two  will  spend  an  evening  over  a  lot  of 
musty  papers  and  the  thing  will  be  done. 
Again  my  boy,  I  welcome  you  to  our  family. 
Gk)d  bless  youl" 

"I'm  overpowered,  you  know — I'm  really 
overpowered!"  Thus  Horace  as  he  loitered  to- 
ward the  sparkling  sea-view  with  an  expectant 
glance  toward  the  Comtesse  de  Champigny 
who  was  now  with  a  most  engaging  fervor 
lingering  to  press  his  lordship's  hand  in  the 
American  fashion. 

"You  are  superb!"  she  said  with  conviction. 
His  lordship  glanced  toward  the  retreating 
brother.  He  drew  a  long  breath  and  in  his  eyes 
was  another  sparkle  to  enliven  this  shining  day. 
"Let  him  know,"  he  said  crisply,  "that  it's  to 
be  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds."  For 
even  in  the  glow  of  this  great  moment  the  fond 
father  would  neglect  no  one  of  those  details 

25 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

so  important  to  the  process  of  transforming  am 
American  girl  into  a  noble  lady.  "A  himdred 
and  fifty  thousand  pounds,  remember!" 

"My  friend,  truly  you  inspire  rererence,'* 
purled  the  Comtesse.  She  flung  her  charmimg 
laugh  ahead  to  the  waiting  Horace. 


CHAPTER  IL 

PIKE   OF   KOKOMO 

Availing  himself  of  even  the  httle  we  hare 
learned  about  the  stupendous  mysteries  of  elec- 
tricity, Horace  Granger- Simpson  had  caused 
certain  breaches  in  a  current  of  that  fluid  at 
Sorrento  which  almost  immediately  became  in- 
telligible in  a  remote  city  that  he  preferred  not 
to  think  about.  Indeed,  by  reason  of  other 
mysteries — of  that  grotesque  fiction,  Time — 
his  inspired  words  performed  a  prodigy  of 
fleetness,  caught  and  passed  the  time  of  day 
somewhere  along  the  bed  of  an  ocean  and  were 
being  read  in  Kokomo,  Indiana,  even  before 
his  eager  pencil  had  hurried  them  on  to  pa- 
per— if  we  are  to  take  time  from  mere  clocks. 

But  alas!  for  the  vanished  sparkle!  The 
27 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

fateful  words  had  resumed  their  identity,  after 
a  terrific  adventure  as  dots  and  dashes,  in  a 
clime  where  the  sparkle  is  likely  to  be  dulled 
in  this  month  of  December.  Kokomo  lay  un- 
der a  gray  sky  through  which  a  sullen  and 
reluctant  sun  would  cast  the  palest  of  rays, 
and  these  only  after  beclouded  intervals  of  chill 
and  damp.  Yet  along  its  main  thoroughfare 
its  inhabitants  braved  the  wintry  mist  in  a- 
vivacious  bustle  of  Saturday  afternoon  shop- 
ping, all  unconscious  that  their  climate  would 
never  for  a  moment  be  tolerated  by  the  cap- 
tious inn-keepers  of  Southern  Italy.  Indeed, 
when  they  spoke  of  the  day  at  all  these  be- 
nighted ones  spoke  cheerfully,  perhaps  as  to 
how  the  time  still  promised  well  for  winter 
wheat,  and  sordid  matters  of  that  sort.  Doubt- 
less few  of  them  paused  to  compare  their  cli- 
mate to  its  disadvantage  with  that  of  any  other 
climate  on  earth,  even  when  the  sun,  pallid 
as  another  moon  if  seen  at  all,  seemed  to  smoul- 
der definitely  out  and  the  mist  thickened  to 

28 


PIKE   OF   KOKOMO 


sheer  gloom.  And  it  is  almost  as  good  as  cer- 
tain that  in  all  that  thriving  interior  metrop- 
olis there  was  but  one  person  who  at  that 
moment  thought  of  faraway  Sorrento.  This 
person  had  lately  thought  of  it  often.  And 
now  on  the  spot  where  the  winged  words  of 
brother  Horace  had  come  to  rest,  he  was  in- 
tensely thinking  of  it  again.  Let  us  be  at  him! 
On  the  second  floor  of  a  certain  rather  un- 
modish  but  substantial  looking  bank  building 
the  third  door  to  the  right  bears  on  its  dusty 
upper  half,  which  is  of  opaque  glass,  the  black- 
lettered  announcement, 

DANIEL  VOORHEES  PIKE 

Attorney-at-Law 

(estate  of  JOHN  SIMPSON) 

A  small  card  placed  at  the  lower  right-hand 
comer  of  the  glass  supplemented  this  legend 
with  the  entreaty,  "Come  in — don't  knock." 
One  figures  timid  consultants  pausing  formally 

29 


THE   MAN  FROM   HOME 

before  that  door  in  the  past,  in  numbers  suf- 
ficient to  prompt  this  time-saving  device. 
Without  knocking,  then,  we  enter  the  office 
of  him  who  was  perhaps  at  that  very  moment 
:(if  we  believe  in  clocks)  at  a  point  far  over 
the  earth's  curve,  being  rather  sketchily  de- 
scribed to  the  profoundly  interested  Earl  of 
Hawcastle  as — we  beheve  "bally  old  duffer" 
was  the  neatest  of  the  phrases. 

The  apartment  is  large  and  well  lighted-— 
for  that  kind  of  day  in  Kokomo — ^by  two  win- 
dows overlooking  the  street.  High  shelves  line 
two  sides,  packed  with  a  fearsome  monotony 
of  those  calf -bound  volumes  of  the  law  and 
statutes  in  such  cases  made  and  provided — 
those  musty,  juiceless  records  of  litigation  tried 
and  for  the  most  part  happily  forgotten.  The 
remaining  wall  surface  is  a  dull  gray.  On  the 
exposed  side  opposite  the  books  a  crack  in  the 
plaster  wavers  from  some  point  concealed  by  a 
steel  engraving  of  Daniel  Webster  well  down 
and  across  the  wall's  surface,  sending  a  branch 

so 


PIKE  OF  KOKOMO 


line  to  where  a  bedizened  calendar  of  the  days 
has  been  nailed  up,  passing  thence  under  a 
large  wall-map  of  the  world  and  so  on  until 
it  meets  a  window  that  lets  such  light  as  may 
be  abroad  in  upon  a  littered  desk.  A  revolv- 
ing chair  is  before  this  desk,  a  chair  with  a 
treacherous  look  because  of  its  leaning  super- 
structure. Three  other  chairs  grace  the  room, 
or  rather,  occupy  fractions  of  its  floor  space. 
They  all  look  durable  enough,  but  none  would 
invite  a  lounger.  There  is  a  filing  cabinet,  a 
typewriter,  a  safe,  looking  highly  important, 
as  the  meanest  safe  always  does,  and  the  some- 
what battered  bust  of  a  famous  American 
statesman  on  a  shelf.  This  effigy  has  been 
desecrated  by  an  unkempt  derby  hat  tilted 
rakishly  over  the  left  brow,  causing  the  famous 
American  statesman  to  leer  with  a  foul  and 
dissolute  foppishness.  Over  all,  as  may  be  ob- 
served with  half  an  eye,  has  fallen  a  gentle  rain 
of  dust  which  is  but  rarely  disturbed  by  a  cer- 
tain aged  freedman  who  shuffles  in  each  night 

31 


THE  MAN   FROM   HOME 

to  empty  the  waste-paper  basket  and  put  the 
chairs  back  in  their  places.  Should  his  atten- 
tion by  chance  be  called  to  the  accumulation 
of  dust  he  perjures  himself  before  high  heaven 
that  the  place  was  dustless  but  two  days  before, 
incidentally  boasting  a  rheumatic  diathesis  that 
has  intrigued  not  only  the  entire  medical  pro- 
fession of  the  city  but  countless  lay  experts  of 
his  own  race.  And,  truth  to  tell,  the  place  has 
but  the  moderate  dustiness  and  untidiness  that 
in  this  curious  profession  testifies  to  prosperity. 
The  aggressively  neat  law-oifice  argues  but  a 
hopeful  beginning,  when  there  is  still  a  barren 
leisure  in  which  to  worry  about  appearances. 
An  ordinarily  acute  brother  professional  enter- 
ing this  ofiice  for  the  first  time  would  instantly 
have  perceived  its  disorder  to 'be  mere  well- 
remunerated  laxness,  miles  this  side  of  the 
squalor  that  tells  of  failure  and  achieved 
penury. 

The  sole  occupant  of  the  room,  if  we  may 
trust  brother  Horace,  is  not  the  man  we  seek. 


PIKE   OF  KOKOMO 


Even  at  a  casual  glance  he  is  no  bally  old  duf- 
fer. Younger  than  that,  whatever  else  he  may 
be,  a  tall,  rangy  person  with  a  long,  oldish- 
young  face  under  a  shock  of  faintly  glowing 
hair  now  rumpled  to  an  untidiness  in  key  with 
his  environment.  He  stands  musingly  between 
the  littered  desk  and  the  rather  begrimed  win- 
dow, his  feet  well  apart,  his  shoulders  up  but 
his  head  bent  over  the  message  we  have  fol- 
lowed, the  sheet  stretched  between  a  thumb 
and  finger  of  each  hand.  Yet  the  eyes  are  not 
upon  the  type- written  words.  It  had  been  an 
astounding  message  and  after  fifty  staring  pe- 
rusals he  already  knew  each  of  its  fifty  or  so 
words.  The  eyes  follow  the  lines  of  the  room, 
absently,  slowly,  resting  now  and  again  upon 
some  familiar  bit  of  its  furnishing,  yet  w4th 
nothing  of  comprehension  in  the  glance.  Even 
when  his  eyes  halted  upon  so  piquant  an  item 
as  the  outraged  bust  of  the  American  states- 
man— the  hat  had  been  his  own  and  now  elo- 
quently elucidated  his  opinion  of  the  states- 

33 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

man — ^his  gaze  remained  blank.  Slowly  he 
twice  paced  the  length  of  the  room,  his  head 
bowed,  his  eyes  profoundly  troubled.  A  mo- 
ment he  drooped  above  the  desk  to  stare  mood- 
ily at  a  half -written  letter.  He  drew  the  re- 
volving chair  toward  him  as  if  about  to  sit  for 
the  completion  of  this  task,  then  straightened 
from  the  desk,  crossed  the  room  and  stared  in- 
tently at  the  map  of  the  world  there  displayed; 
a  dull  expanse  of  a  world  neatly  bisected 
through  Russia,  China  and  India,  flatly  giv- 
ing the  lie  to  the  celebrated  projection  of  Mr. 
Mercator.  There  were  many  lines  instructively 
traversing  this  map,  but  one  of  them  had  very 
apparently  been  added  by  an  amateur  geog- 
rapher. This  was  now  receiving  earnest  at- 
tention. It  had  been  drawn  with  a  blunted 
blue  pencil,  giving  it  a  scale  on  the  map  not 
enjoyed  by  the  most  favored  of  railways  and 
quite  absurdly  incommensurate  with  its  im- 
portance. It  started  in  London,  proceeded 
straight  to  Paris  with  a  fine  disregard  for 

34> 


PIKE   OF   KOKOMO 


physical  possibilities,  and  thereafter  zigzagged 
to  the  more  attractive  loitering-places  of  con- 
tinental Europe.  Ostend  was  at  the  end  of  a 
branch,  the  main  line  continuing  from  Paris 
to  Nice,  whence  it  lost  itself  along  the  Italian 
Riviera.  Biarritz  and  Homburg  the  blue  pen- 
cil had  found;  again  from  Paris  the  line 
pushed  eastward  to  Switzerland  where,  after 
distinguishing  many  points  of  interest  with  its 
stain,  it  shot  to  the  south  and  most  sturdily 
passed  the  Alps  into  Italy  once  more.  Here 
it  added  its  blue  to  certain  lakes  in  the  hills, 
and  was  presently  to  be  observed  touching  Mi- 
Ian,  after  which  Venice,  Florence,  Rome  and 
Naples  were  met.  From  the  latter  city  a  broad 
straight  line  led  across  a  corner  of  the  bay  to 
where  it  quite  obscured  a  tiny  dot  declared  by 
the  map  to  be  Sorrento. 

There  this  curious  road  had  abruptly 
stopped  the  month  before.  The  blue  pencil  had 
been  idle  ever  since  a  letter  with  the  Sorrento 
postmark  had  directed  that  certain  remittances 

35 


THE   MAN   FEOM  HOME 

should  until  further  notice  be  forwarded  to  the 
Hotel  Regina  Margherita  at  that  point.  The 
observer  stared  a  long  time  at  this  feat  of 
topographical  daring  and  with  an  interest  re- 
markably fresh  considering  that  he  knew  all 
its  divigations  as  a  seasoned  golfer  knows  his 
favorite  links.  Presently,  after  a  prolonged 
and  especially  absorbed,  almost  dreaming  gaze 
at  his  Sorrentine  terminal,  he  with  deep  feel- 
ing called  some  unnamed  person  a  fool  and 
strode  briskly  again  to  the  littered  desk.  This 
time  he  came  to  rest  in  the  revolving  chair 
(which  shrieked  and  tottered  ominously  as  it 
took  his  weight),  pushed  to  remoter  outskirts 
the  litter  of  papers  on  the  desk  top  and  re- 
sumed the  letter  he  had  begun  to  write  there 
an '  hour  before.  While  he  writes  hurriedly 
yet  haltingly,  with  intervals  of  troubled  gaz- 
ing into  space,  it  is  our  task  to  consider  him 
more  intimately  for  in  a  very  few  minutes  the 
letter  will  be  done  and  he  will  sign  it,  "Yours 
tally,  D.  V.  Pike,"  in  the  plainest  of  writing. 

36 


PIKE   OF  KOKOMO 


Too  obviously  brother  Horace  is  describing 
him  to  a  belted  Earl  under  the  most  flagrant 
misapprehensions.  He  is  thirty  at  the  most — 
perhaps  an  oldish  thirty,  due  to  the  too  early 
discovery  that  life  is  both  real  and  earnest. 
And  probably  even  so  untrained  an  observer 
as  brother  Horace,  scanning  him  at  this  mo- 
ment, would  have  rejected  the  term  "duffer" 
for  one  more  plausible.  There  is  no  lack  of 
shrewdness  and  competence  expressed  in  his 
face,  a  face  illumined  now  and  then  as  he 
writes  by  flashes  of  a  sort  of  humorous  dismay. 
The  letter  is  finished.  He  thrusts  the  pen  into 
a  low  glass  cup  of  shot — size  No.  6  and  cor- 
roded with  ink  these  many  years — leans  back 
in  the  revolving  chair,  which  screeches  in 
agony,  and  swings  absently  from  side  to  side 
through  the  space  his  knees  may  move  beneath 
the  desk. 

From  the  blank  wall  his  eyes  fall  to  a  photo- 
graph which  until  this  moment  has  formed  a 
unit  in  the  desk's  litter.    He  brings  this  for- 

87 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

ward  and  his  eyes  lighten  at  the  familiar  lines 
of  a  young  girl's  face.  The  eyes  return  his 
look — that  photographer's  trick ! — serious  eyes 
in  a  face  entirely  serious,  for  which  possibly 
the  photographer  is  again  at  fault  for  the  face 
is  eloquent  of  quite  other  capacities.  One  could 
foresee  its  smile,  even  its  laugh,  the  sleek  chin 
trembling,  the  firm  lips  relaxing,  while  the 
nose —  Many  pleasant  things  could  be  said 
of  the  nose ;  there  is  an  engaging  informality 
about  its  lines — including  a  barely  perceptible 
tilt — that  promises  an  able  cooperation  when 
the  laugh  comes. 

The  man's  voice  sounded  alarmingly  again 
in  the  room's  stillness  and  the  words  "You 
fool!"  were  repeated  with  the  profoundest  con- 
viction. Assuredly  they  were  not  addressed  to 
the  photograph;  the  glance  at  that  bore  too 
much  of  tenderness — of  a  certain  tender  resig- 
nation that  would  be  still  wistful  in  spite  of 
itself.  Perhaps  this  very  persistence  evoked 
the  epithet.    Whoever  it  was  directed  against, 

38 


PIKE   OF   KOKOMO 


it  was  not  the  girl  of  the  photograph,  even 
though  her  blouse  was  of  an  atrocious  pattern 
demoded  these  three  years,  the  coiffure  almost 
rudely  archaic  and  even  though  Miss  Ethel 
Granger- Simpson  herself,  happily  ignorant  of 
the  existence  of  this  print — and,  above  all,  ig- 
norant of  its  present  ownership — would  have 
frankly  pronounced  it  absurd. 

The  photograph  was  laid  carefully  aside. 
"You  conglomerated  idiot,"  added  the  con- 
vinced voice  of  Pike,  continuing  this  crude 
essay  at  character  analysis.  "You  might  have 
known — all  the  time!"  He  eased  the  com- 
plaining chair  of  .its  burden  and  stood  at  one 
of  the  windows  idly  watching  the  lively  street 
below  him.  The  throngs  were  denser  now  that 
the  afternoon  was  drawing  in.  With  a  mo- 
mentarily cordial  eye  he  surveyed  the  hurry- 
ing men  and  women.  He  knew  those  people ; 
he  liked  them  and  he  was  one  of  them.  Es- 
I)ecially  did  he  like  the  town.  Once  it  had 
seemed  a  tremendous,  an  unattainable  city  to 

39 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

him.  That  was  when,  a  wide-eyed  country 
boy,  he  had  studied  law  in  the  nearest  village 
and  dreamed  of  this  metropolis  as  something 
too  splendid  for  him.  It  was  still  a  city  to 
him,  still  splendid  though  he  had  gained  it. 
Among  the  quick-moving  figures  on  the  pave- 
ment below,  it  pleased  him  now  to  fancy  him- 
self as  he  had  walked  there  nearly  ten  years 
before,  wide-gazing,  alert  yet  entranced,  on 
his  way  to  this  very  office  where  he  had  quickly 
become  John  Simpson's  trusted  subordinate — 
his  right  hand,  as  Simpson  said — and  event- 
ually his  closest  friend.  Here  he  had  become 
an  adept  in  the  mystic  rites  of  the  law,  and 
here  honors  and  riches — in  a  country  way  of 
speaking — ^had  come  to  him.  Already  at 
thirty  his  counsel  was  prized  by  the  judicious. 
And  already  what  he  regarded  as  a  supreme 
distinction  had  been  thrust  upon  him,  nothing 
less  than  membership  in  the  legislature  of  his 
sovereign  state.  Things  had  come  about  for 
him  wonderfully,  he  now  reflected.     But  he 

40 


PIKE   OF   KOKOMO 


had  been  a  fool  indeed  to  suspect  that  things 
would  continue  to  come  about  in  the  same  won- 
derful way,  to  believe,  however  timidly,  that 
his  wildest  dream  of  all  would  of  necessity  be- 
come a  lasting  fabric.  Some  ideals  there  must 
be  too  glorious  for  achievement — ^being  merely 
meant  to  delude  fools  to  dreaming.  Well,  he 
had  been  an  easy  victim,  had  dreamed  to  the 
utmost  of  folly,  if  that  were  any  satisfaction 
to  the  Schemer  of  Things.  Now  he  would 
cease  from  the  futile  and  try  to  do  for  John 
Simpson  what  he  himself  would  have  done. 
With  a  last  muttered  "Fool!"  as  if  to  close  the 
incident,  he  returned  to  the  desk  to  read  over 
the  letter  he  had  finished.  And  now,  as  he 
addresses  an  envelope  to  "Hon.  James  G. 
Cooley,  vice-Consul  U.  S.  A.,  London,  Eng- 
land," we  shall  do  well  to  read  the  letter  as  yet 
unsealed. 

Dear  Jim: 

You  probably  know  that  when  Mr.  Simpson  died 
three  years  ago  he  left  everything  in  my  charge ;  the 

41 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 


estate  and  the  children.  Well,  the  estate  has  been 
mighty  easy  managing,  hardly  any  work  to  it,  but 
that  pair  of  Simpson  brats  have  had  me  losing  sleep 
more  than  once.  You  know  how  the  old  man  always 
wanted  them  to  have  the  best  they  could  get  in  edu- 
cation, sent  them  abroad  to  school,  and  all  that.  Now 
it  looks  as  if  they  had  got  to  like  Europe  so  well  they 
are  going  to  stay  there.  Maybe  that  is  all  right  too 
and  near  enough  to  what  the  old  man  would  have 
wanted  for  them.  The  boy,  thank  God,  I'm  not  any 
longer  responsible  for  because  he  got  to  be  twenty-one 
six  or  seven  months  ago.  But  I've  got  to  be  the 
girl's  guardian  for  another  year,  and  so  that  is  why 
I  am  writing  this  letter  to  you.  Honestly,  Jim,  I'm 
afraid  I  haven't  done  my  duty  by  those  kids,  letting 
them  wander  around  loose  that  way — especially  the 
girl.  You  see  this  is  how  it  is.  She  and  her  brother 
got  hooked  up  some  way  in  London  about  a  year  ago 
with  an  English  widow-lady  named  Creech — Lady 
Creech,  her  title  is,  so  I  guess  she  is  someone,  all 
right,  and  she  seemed  to  sort  of  take  Ethel,  Miss 
Simpson,  under  her  wing.  Anyway  they  have  been 
travelling  about  a  whole  lot  in  Europe  and  I  gather 
that  this  English  party  is  getting  her  bit  every  montk 
for  playing  the  chaperone.  Well,  "so  far  so 
good,  if  not  better,"  as  the  old  man  used  to  say.  But 
now  it  seems  the  old  lady  has  a  nephew,  one  Almeric 
St.  Aubyn,  who  will  be  the  Earl  of  Hawcastle  when  his 
falher  dies,  and  Ethel  Simpson  has  become  engaged 
to  marry  him.  The  whole  party,  including  the 
father,  who  is  not  dead  yet,  are  at  an  Italian  towa 

42 


PIKE   OF   KOKOMO 


called  Sorrento,  which  is  down  toward  the  ankle  of 
the  boot-leg  on  the  left-hand  side  as  you  look  at  the 
map.  You  can  see  it  plain  enough  on  any  good  map. 
I  received  a  cable-message  from  the  boy  today  giv- 
ing me  the  glad  tidings  and  requesting  me  to  show 
up  there  right  off  for  some  reason. .  Something  about 
a  settlement,  he  says,  but  I  can't  make  out  what  he 
means.  At  first  it  looked  as  if  I  just  couldn't  pos- 
sibly get  away  from  here — work  enough  to  keep  two 
men  busy — but  I  got  to  thinking  over  it  and  I've 
kept  thinking  over  it  all  afternoon  and  now  I  reckon 
there's  only  one  thing  to  do  and  that  is  to  go.  I 
see  I'll  have  to  ease  my  conscience  for  letting  those 
children  knock  around  alone  so  long.  I  sure  haven't 
been  any  prize  guardian  up  to  date.  And  how  do  I 
know  that  this  girl  is  getting  in  right?  Of  course 
the  chances  are  she  is,  because  I  think  she's  one  to 
make  a  wise  choice — she  has  so  much  of  John  Simp- 
son's good  common  sense  in  her  little  head.  But  I 
couldn't  feel  easy  if  I  let  it  go  at  that,  and  so  I'm 
leaving  on  the  very  first  steamboat  I  can  catch,  to 
make  as  sure  as  I  can  that  the  kid  is  getting  a  fair 
deal.  Probably  I  will  be  away  at  least  a  month. 
Lord!  won't  it  seem  funny,  when  for  ten  years  I've 
hardly  been  able  to  get  farther  away  from  the  old 
town  than  a  two-dollar  excursion  would  take  me.  I 
shall  sail  for  Naples,  which  is  where  you  get  off  to 
go  to  this  town  of  Sorrento.  Well,  now  this  is  what 
I  want  you  to  do  for  me,  Jim.  You  will  know  how  to 
set  about  it.  Get  a  line  for  me  on  these  English 
parties,  this  Hawcastle  family,  father  and  son.    Give 

43 


THE   MAN  FROM  HOME 

it  to  me  cold,  if  you  can,  just  who  they  are  and  what 
their  standing  is.  Find  out  everything  about  the  son 
that  you  think  the  old  man  would  have  wanted  to 
know  about  anyone  who  was  going  to  marry  his  girl. 
As  I  say,  I  haven't  the  least  doubt  that  everything 
is  all  right,  but  I  want  to  be  certain,  especially  be- 
cause I  don't  believe  the  best  man  in  the  world  would 
be  any  too  good  for  this  girl.  Now,  Jim,  get  a  hustle 
on  and  try  to  have  a  letter  for  me  at  the  Hotel 
Regina  Margherita  at  this  town  of  Sorrento,  Italy, 
by  the  time  I  get  there,  and  greatly  oblige 

The  letter  is  sealed  and  stamped.  And  now 
Pike  reaches  again  into  the  desk  litter  and 
withdraws  a  steamship  folder  in  which  he  scans 
for  a  moment  the  date  of  a  certain  sailing  for 
Naples.  This  item  absorbed  he  casts  aside 
the  folder  for  the  photograph  and  the  eyes 
again  meet  his.  "You  laminated  old  fool!'* 
he  says — and  then,  "Good  luck  to  you — ^you 
little  child!" 


CHAPTER  III 

VON  GROLLERHAGEN  OF  NOWHERE 

After  that  chilling  interlude,  mercifully; 
brief,  under  the  leaden  skies  of  Kokomo,  we 
are  again  privileged  to  bask  in  the  glowing 
garden  of  the  Hotel  Regina  Margherita.  It 
is  eleven  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  a  day  some 
two  weeks  after  we  were  last  refreshed  by  its 
bland  airs  and  ornate  greenery.  A  few  ex- 
ulting tourists  loiter  in  its  shaded  aisles  or  loll 
in  wicker  chairs  along  the  balustrade,  steep- 
ing in  this  gracious  sunlight  and  rendering 
thanks,  it  may  be,  for  their  release  from  ruder 
climes. 

About  the  broad  terrace  are  tables  and 
wicker  chairs  invitingly  grouped  and  one  infers 
that  a  few  favored  mortals  have  chosen  to 

45 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

breakfast  here,  for  young  Michele,  who  hopes 
by  years  of  faithful  service  one  day  to  inherit 
the  powers  and  title  of  old  Mariano,  maitre 
d'hotel,  is  now  deftly  disembarrassing  two  of 
the  tables  of  their  burden  of  used  dishes  and 
linen.  At  a  little  distance  old  Mariano  himself 
is  achieving  the  perfectly  appointed  breakfast 
table  for  a  pair  who  have  not  yet  appeared. 
Michele  at  his  humbler  task  contrives  little 
oblique  surveys  of  his  superior's  craft,  noting 
the  proper  bestowal  of  the  napery,  the  perfect 
alignment  of  the  silver,  the  skilled  adjust- 
ment of  the  china,  the  choicely  composed  array 
of  fruit.  He  secretly  believes  himself  to  be 
already  Mariano's  equal  in  these  minor  mys- 
teries of  correct  table-laying  but  he  knows  full 
well  that  only  the  years  can  bring  him  Ma- 
riano's flawless  dignity  of  bearing  and  that 
look  of  slightly  worried  but  competent  impor- 
tance which  Mariano  wears,  not  only  when 
hungry  guests  consult  him  as  to  food  but  even 
now  when,   quite  unobserved  by  clients,  be 

46 


VROLLERHAGEN    OF    NOWHERE 

earnestly   strives    for   the   higher    planes    of 
artistry. 

Mariano  is  a  little  man,  elderly  and  rather 
stout,  his  swarthy,  clean-shaven  face  relaxing 
to  a  marked  affability  at  non-creative  moments. 
His  dress  clothes  with  white  waistcoat  and 
black  tie  are  scrupulously  correct.  Michele  re- 
flects that  this  formal  garb  is  much  preferable 
to  his  own,  of  which  though  his  coat  is  a  dress- 
coat  in  form,  it  is  blue  in  color  with  brass  but- 
tons, the  trousers  blue  with  crimson  braid  at 
the  sides  and  the  waistcoat  narrowly  striped 
with  red  and  blue.  Though  he  intensely  ad- 
mires this  color  scheme,  Michele  suspects  that 
its  gayety  retards  his  progress.  He  is  piqued 
also  by  the  circumstance  that  Mariano  inva- 
riably mutters  to  himself  when  engaged  as  now. 
The  lips  move  rapidly  and  continuously  as  the 
master  briskly  achieves  his  entrancing  effects. 
Even  the  tones  are  wafted  to  Michele,  but  the 
w^ords,  alas !  are  fatally  blurred.  Michele  would 
like  much  to  know  the  precise  words  Mariano 

47 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

so  interestedly  addresses  to  himself  at  such 
times.  He  fancies  they  may  be  vital,  of  some 
charmed  significance  to  the  craft.  He  resolves 
to  mutter  to  himself  hereafter  at  odd  moments 
— one  never  knows!  Having  now  cleared  his 
tables  he  places  the  last  napkin  on  the  piled 
tray  and  reaches  for  his  burden.  Mariano,  a 
fist  at  either  side  of  his  generous  waist,  now 
surveys  his  completed  work.  He  still  mutters 
to  himself.  His  look  of  fond  approval  clouds 
to  a  passing  frown  as  he  steps  forward  to  shde 
the  fruit  dish  half  an  inch  further  toward  the 
Bay  of  Naples.  With  a  final  glance  Michele 
holds  the  loaded  tray  well  aloft  on  his  chest 
and  leans  as  far  back  as  seems  safe,  artlessly 
hoping  that  his  pronounced  slendemess  may 
thus  suggest  what  we  shall — avoiding  harsher 
terms — call  Mariano's  equatorial  convexity. 
Thus  gallantly  contorted  he  makes  his  way  to 
the  hotel  entrance,  but  here  he  unbends,  quite 
literally,  so  that  he  may  indicate  to  an  inquir- 
ing stranger  the  whereabouts  of  Mariano. 

48 


GROLLERHAGEN    OF    NOWHERE 

The  trained  eyes  of  the  latter,  however,  are 
already  engaged,  and  he  comes  quickly  for- 
ward to  greet  the  newcomer.  He  is  not  effu- 
sive— Mariano  is  never  your  gushing  sort — 
but  he  has  perceptibly  unbent  and  it  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  see  that  he  greets  the  trim,  alert  young 
Frenchman  in  the  well-made  English  walking- 
suit  with  unfeigned  cordiality. 

"Always  the  same  Mariano !"  Here  the  new- 
comer deposited  upon  one  of  the  cleared 
tables  a  rather  important  looking  correspond- 
ence case  of  stamped  black  leather,  and  smiled 
agreeably. 

"Ah  I  and  always  the  same  Monsieur  Ribiere, 
so  good  to  see.  Last  night  I  thought  of  you — 
today  you  are  here.  That  seems,  one  would 
almost  say " 

But  the  doubtless  profound  speculations  of 
Mariano  upon  this  coincidence  were  forever 
shattered  by  a  rich  peal  of  Italian  song  with 
stringed  accompaniment  from  the  nearby  gar- 
den gate.    His  face  suffused  with  honest  rage, 

49 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

he  turned  to  threaten  the  performers  with  fist 
and  foot  and  to  shout,  "Silenzio!"  It  is  an 
excellent  word  for  shouting,  a  roomy  word  that 
will  hold  much  heat.  Mariano  from  constant 
practice,  uttered  it  terribly,  then  instantly 
smiled  again  upon  him  he  had  addressed  as 
Monsieur  Ribiere. 

"May  I  hope  that  Monsieur  still  occupies  the 
exalted  position  of  secretary  to  Monseigneur 
the  Grand  Duke " 

"Ssh!"  An  eloquent  finger  lay  across  the 
lips  of  Ribiere.  "We  will  speak  English  if  you 
please" — ^he  indicated  the  presence  of  two 
lounging  tourists  by  the  balustrade — "there 
are  not  so  many  who  understand;  also,  if  you 
please,  we  shall  not  mention  the  name  or  rank 
of  my  employer." 

,  Mariano  groaned;  his  gesture  and  accent 
were  those  of  acute  despair.  "So  again  incog- 
nito? Every  year  he  will  come  to  this  our  hotel 
for  two-three  day,  but  always  that  incognito!" 
He    flourished    protesting    hands    and    ably 

50 


GROLLERHAGEN    OF    NOWHERE 

shrugged  his  sense  of  injury.  "We  lose  the 
honor  to  have  it  known.    Like  that  I" 

"But  what  will  you?"  Ribiere  shrugged  in 
turn,  then  deftly  did  a  bit  of  coiling  with  the 
ends  of  his  small  dark  mustache.  "Strictly  in- 
cognito remember  you,  as  on  the  former  visits 
of  my  employer.  He  comes  to  arrive  presently 
in  his  automobile  from  Naples.  It  is  under- 
stood that  he  shall  be  addressed  as  Herr  von 
GroUerhagen." 

"Herr  von  GroUerhagen!"  Cautiously  Ma- 
riano recited  the  lesson. 

"He  wishes  to  be  thought  a  German." 

To  Mariano  this  must  have  seemed  sheer 
wajrwardness,  yet  he  controlled  himself  to 
merely  humorous  disparagement.  "But,  my 
God!  a  German!  And  why  a  German?  Such 
a  droll  caprice !    Excentrique,  ha !" 

"You  have  said  it,  my  friend."  Ribiere 
paused  on  the  edge  of  gossip,  visibly  wavered, 
fell.  "You  have  truly  said.  Listen  between 
ourselves.    A  man  of  caprice?    But  only  last 

51 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

night  in  the  hotel  at  Naples  he  talk  in  a  chance 
way  to  a  very  singular  North  American  that 
find  himself  there.  The  evening  he  talk,  he 
laugh  with  this  remarkable  native.  But  say, 
then!  Figure  yourself  that  today  he  have  that 
same  North  American  native  as  companion 
with  him  in  his  automobile.  Assure  yourself 
I  remonstrate  sharply,  but  what  use?  He 
laugh  for  half  an  hour  at  my  care." 

Mariano  vigorously  sighed  his  sympathy.  A 
caprice  indeed! 

"Ah,  his  Highness  is  so  affable.  He  must 
know  many  persons  even  as  queer  as  North 
Americans.  Not  like  those  cousin  of  his  at 
St.  Petersburg  and  Moscowa!  And  yet, 
though  Monseigneur  is  so  good,  so  generoso, 
will  not  the  anarchist  strike  against  even  the 
name  of  royalty.    You  have  not  the  fear?" 

"I  have.  He  has  not.  I  take  what  precau- 
tion I  can  secretly  from  him."  The  expression 
of  Monsieur  Ribiere  was  profoundly  serious. 
One  suspected  that  he  would  never  be  less  than 

52 


GROLLERHAGEN    OF    NOWHERE 

profoundly  serious,  even  when  performing  the 
least  significant  of  his  duties.  From  the  cor- 
respondence case  on  the  table  he  now  with- 
drew a  small  notebook  in  which  he  prepared 
to  write.  "You  have  but  few  guests,  I  trust?" 
"Hardly  one  dozen  in  the  whole  house.  It 
is  so  early  in  the  season.  Those  poor  mu- 
sician,"— ^he  nodded  genially  toward  the  dis- 
turbers he  had  so  lately  silenced — ''they  wait 
always  at  every  gate  to  play  and  sing  when 
they  see  anyone  come,  but  not  often  they  see. 
The  most  part  of  our  guests  are  English  of 
one  party." 

"Good I  Who  are  these  English?" 
Mariano  became  voluble,  allotting  each  of 
the  persons  he  named  to  one  of  the  spreading 
fingers  of  his  left  hand.  "There  is  Milor',  an 
English  Excellency — the  Earl  of  Hawcastle; 
there  is  his  son,  the  Excellency  Honorabile  Al- 
meric  St.  Aubyn ;  there  is  Miladi  Creesche,  an 
English  Miladi  who  is  sister-by-marriage  to 
the  Milor'  Hawcastle.    But  when  I  say  all  are 

53 


THE   MAN  FROM  HOME 

English,  I  forget  badly.  Those  three  only. 
Then  is  an  American  Signorina,  Mees  Gran- 
ger-Seempsone.  Miladi  Creeshe  travel  with 
her  to  be  dowager  on  guard,  I  think.  She  is 
young,  generoso,  give  the  money  to  everyone. 
Oh,  multa  hella^  so  pretty,  such  charm — "  He 
had  lost  himself  in  that  maze  of  a  rhapsody, 

Ribiere,  puzzled,  drew  him  back. 

**You  speak  now  of  Lady  Creech?" 

Mariano  gasped  blankly,  then  emitted  an 
unnecessarjr  number  of  denials. 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no!  Miladi  Creeshe  is 
old  lady.  Not  hear  well.  Deaf,"  Mariano 
here  tapped  both  his  ears  informingly.  "And 
gloomy!  No  pourboireSj  nothing.  I  spoke  of 
the  young  lady,  Mees  Granger- Seempsone, 
who  the  English  Honorabile  son  of  Milor' 
Hawcastle  is  about  to  espouse,  I  think."  Ma- 
riano beamed  roguishly. 

"Who  else  is  there?"  demanded  the  ever- 
serious  Ribiere,  his  pencil  again  poised  above 
his  notebook. 


GROLLERHAGEN    OF    NOWHERE 

"Two  others.  The  brother  of  Mees  Gran- 
ger-Seempsone,  a  young  gentleman  of  Amer- 
ica. He  make  the  eyes  all  day  at  another 
lady  who  is  of  the  party,  a  French  lady, 
Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Champigny.  Ha,  ha  I 
That  amuse  me  so  much."  Again  Mariano 
beamed  roguishly  upon  his  companion.  Al- 
most he  leered. 

"And  why?"  Ribiere  remained  insensible 
to  this  gayety. 

Mariano,  after  glancing  about  him,  dis- 
creetly went  forward,  lowering  his  voice.  "Be- 
koss  I  think  that  Comtesse  de  Champigny  is  a 
such  good  friend  of  the  oF  English  Milor' 
Hawcastle."  He  laid  a  finger  along  his  nose, 
the  lid  of  his  left  eye  quivered  with  intimations. 
"A  maitre  d'hotel  see  many  things.  I  think 
that  Milor'  and  the  Comtesse  know  each 
other  from  long  time,  perhaps.  See,  I  set  that 
table  for  their  dejeuner,"  Mariano  had 
relished  his  gossip  and  he  was  now  not  unwill- 
ing that  Ribiere  should  glance  approvingly  at 

55 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

the  table  to  which  he  had  given  his  thought. 
But  the  latter  kept  his  eyes  on  his  note- 
book. 

"Good!    No  Russians,  then?" 

"No  Russians,  yet  I  think  Milor'  Hawcastle 
and  that  Comtesse  de  Champigny  have  some- 
time been  in  Russia."  Not  above  prolonging 
the  gossip  was  Mariano  when  the  time  and  the 
listener  favored  it. 

Ribiere  had  risen  and  replaced  the  notebook 
in  the  correspondence  case,  though  he  lingered 
to  ask,  "Why?" 

"Bekoss  twice,  three  times,  I  hear  them  spik 
Russian  to  each  ozzer." 

**Is  that  all?"  Ribiere  seemed  to  find  this 
negligible.  "I  think  there  is  small  chance  they 
will  recognize  my  employer;  his  portrait  is  little 
known." 

"And  this  North  American  who  come  with 
Monseigneur  in  the  automobile,"  demanded 
Mariano,  "does  he  know  what  great  one  he 
travel  beside?" 


GROLLEKHAGEN    OF    NOWHERE 

"But  no — not  more  than  the  baby  which  is 
not  horned." 

"Ah!"  Mariano  lifted  to  heaven  eyes  elo- 
quent of  this  monstrous  drollery.  Ribiere 
briskly  consulted  his  watch. 

"Set  dejeuner  on  the  terrace  instantly  when 
they  arrive;  a  small  fish  you  have,  yes;  the 
little  peas,  iced  figs,  tea.  I  will  bring  his  own 
caviar  and  vodka  from  the  supplies  I  carry." 

"I  set  for  one?" 

"For  two.  But  yes.  He  desires  that  the 
North  American  shall  breakfast  with  him.  And 
do  not  forget,  my  friend — " — Ribiere's  man- 
ner became  impressive  to  an  extreme — "do  not 
forget  that  the  incognito  must  be  absolute." 

"Ah-ha!  But  I  heard  and  I  know  that  and 
I  do  not  forget."  Briefly  Mariano  experienced 
the  irritation  that  follows  a  careless  aspersion 
of  one's  professional  honor,  yet  this  was  swiftly 
washed  out  by  his  large  enjoyment  of  the  jest 
in  question.  "Va  bene,  signore,"  he  called  to 
the  briskly  vanishing  Ribiere.  "The  Herr  von 

57 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

GroUerhagen  shall  be  well  served  in  all  things 
— a  German  gentleman,  but  yes.    Ha,  ha!" 

He  turned  to  choose  a  table  proper  to  the 
expected  guest,  "Von  GroUerhagen, — von 
Groller  Hagen — ^von  GroUerhagen."  He  prac- 
tised the  name  as  he  set  about  his  new  task. 
It  had  a  novel  effect  in  his  throat,  seeming 
to  thrill  certain  vocal  chords  whose  existence 
he  had  not  hitherto  suspected. 

"Von  GroUerhagen — ^von  GroUerhagen — '* 

Approached  from  the  hotel  the  aspiring 
Michele,  soft  of  foot,  stealthy  when  he  saw  the 
lips  of  Mariano  at  play. 

"Now  perhaps  I  shall  hear  what  he  says  to 
himself,"  he  thought.  Nearer  he  drew,  still 
unobserved,  and  then  he  heard.  "Dio  mio !"  he 
muttered  fervently,  and  crossed  himself.  "It 
is  then  a  charm  that  he  utters  the  whole  time," 
and  strenuously  he  shaped  his  lips  to  whisper 
the  fearsome  word. 


CHAPTER  IV 

SOME  WIT  AS  TO  DONKEYS 

Meanwhile  let  us  overtake  a  certain  engaged 
couple  as  they  canter  along  that  scenic  delight 
known  as  the  Amalfi  drive.  Opportunely  they 
pull  their  mounts  to  a  walk  as  we  reach  them, 
the  Honorable  Almeric  St.  Aubyn,  superbly 
accoutered  for  the  back  of  a  horse,  and  captive 
in  his  train,  as  it  were,  a  maiden  of  the  bar- 
barous but  affluent  tribe  of  the  North  Amer- 
icans, though  the  latter  is  patently  a  more  than 
wilUng  captive  and  has  bedecked  herself  with 
considerable  finesse  to  the  end  that  she  may 
appear  fair  in  the  languid  eyes  of  her  lord. 
Both  of  them  pointedly  ignore  a  bit  of  the 
world's  most  gratifjring  scenery.  Not  for 
them  the  boldly  jutting  hills  with  their  mount- 

59 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

ing  terraces  of  vine,  the  up-flung  orchards  of 
ohve  and  orange  and  lemon,  the  latter  with 
thrilling  gleams  of  gold  amid  their  verdure; 
nor  for  them  the  Mediterranean's  lazy  splendor 
as  it  swells  in  living  jade  and  turquoise  to  the 
base  of  the  cliff  along  which  their  road  ad- 
ventures. The  Honorable  Almeric,  as  he  him- 
self might  put  it,  has  never  been  "keen"  on 
scenery,  and  Miss  Ethel  Granger- Simpson  is 
still  so  engrossed  with  that  far  view  of  a  full 
life  that  has  come  to  her  that  mere  spectacles 
in  topography  leave  her  untouched.  Indeed, 
at  this  moment  she  is  rather  more  than  usually 
absorbed,  a  curiously  brooding  absorption,  for 
she  more  than  once  glances  at  her  companion 
with  eyes  that  simply  do  not  see  him.  She  had 
already  found  that  when  alone  with  her  suitor 
her  opportunities  for  meditation  were  abun- 
dant, so  infrequently  did  he  address  her.  Like 
so  many  men  who  have  engaged  the  world's 
notice  for  their  deeds  he  was  endowed  with  a 
rare  gift  for  silence. 

60 


SOME   WIT  AS   TO   DONKEYS 

And  now,  as  more  than  once  since  the  beau- 
tiful adventure  had  been  officially  determined 
upon,  the  girl  found  herself  in  a  mood  of  cu- 
riously dry  reflection,  due  possible  to  a  marked 
difficulty  in  identifying  the  youth  at  her  side 
with  the  remote  great  dead  of  his  line.  She 
was  never  so  cold  as  to  question  or  to  doubt, 
though  a  stubborn  sense  of  unreality  would 
sometimes  oppress  her  in  the  young  man's  pres- 
ence, and  strange  to  say,  most  often  at  those 
moments  when  he  chose  to  talk,  for  again,  like 
that  of  certain  of  the  world's  great  men,  his 
speech  was  not  scintillating.  But  the  shining 
bare  fact  was  ever  there  to  dazzle  her.  Had 
she  not  thumbed  to  her  soul's  profit  a  copy  of 
Burke's  Peerage,  generously  conferred  upon 
her  by  dear  Lady  Creech  only  a  week  before? 
And  had  she  not  obtained  and  almost  breath- 
lessly conned  the  "Chronicles"  of  Froissart 
wherein  the  men  of  St.  Aubyn  were  shown  to 
have  won  no  small  share  of  the  undying  glory 
of  Crecy  and  Agincourt?    And  was  not  her 

61 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

aflSanced  veritably  a  St.  Aubyn?  That  very 
morning,  suddenly  thoughtful,  she  had  said  to 
brother  Horace,  appealingly,  almost  wistfully, 
"You're  fond  of  Almeric,  aren't  you,  Hoddy? 
You  do  truly  admire  him,  don't  you?"  It  had 
not  occurred  to  the  young  man  that  she  was 
rather  pathetically  inviting  the  reassurance  of 
certain  vague,  troubled  stirrings  in  her  mind. 
Indeed  she  herself  would  have  denied  this. 
And  happily  brother  Horace  had  given  her 
the  comfort  she  did  not  dream  she  sought. 

"Why,  of  course,"  he  had  said.  "Think  of 
all  he  represents!" 

She  had  become  enthusiastic  at  once. 

"Indeed  I  do  think  of  that.  Crusaders' 
blood  flows  in  his  veins.  It  is  to  the  nobility 
that  must  be  within  him  that  I've  plighted 
myself."  Certainly  she  must  have  been  uncon- 
scious of  the  slight  emphasis  with  which  she 
freighted  the  word  "must"  in  this  speech. 

"Of  course.  Sis !  It's  the  greatest  thing  that 
ever  happened."    He  had  paused  in  renewed 

62 


SOME   WIT   AS   TO   DONKEYS 

wonder,  then  continued  with  a  fine  quality  of 
simple  marvelling  in  his  tones,  "Doesn't  it  seem 
impossible  that  we  were  born  in  Indiana!"  For 
the  moment  he  had  appeared  quite  overcome 
by  this  incredible  circumstance. 

She  had  marvelled  briefly  with  him,  then  ex- 
claimed, "But  isn't  it  good,  Hoddy,  that  the 
Pater  *made  his  pile'  as  the  Americans  say  and 
let  us  come  over  here  when  we  were  young — let 
us  come  to  find  the  nobler  things,  Hoddy,  the 
nobler  things!" 

And  brother  Horace  had  responded  with 
the  simplicity  of  profound  emotion. 

"The  nobler  things,  Sis,  the  nobler  things  I 
Why,  just  think,  whisn  old  Hawcastle  dies  I'll 
be  saying  to  fellows,  quite  off-hand,  you  know, 
*My  sister,  the  Countess  of  Hawcastle — '  "  He 
had  broken  off  in  the  stress  of  his  ecstacy.  And 
she  had  then  sought  comforting  assurance  from 
him  on  another  point. 

"And  Hoddy,  you  don't  suppose  that 
father's  friend,  my  guardian,  this  old  Mr.  Pike 

63 


THE  MAN   FROM   HOME 

who  may  be  here  at  any  moment  now,  will  be, — 
will  be  queer,  do  you?" 

The  brother  had  again  displayed  a  match- 
less optimism. 

"Well,  the  Governor  himself  was  rather 
raw,  you  know.  This  chap  is  probably  a  harm- 
less enough  old  duffer — easy  to  handle.  Trust 
me,  I'll  have  him  in  his  proper  place  ten  sec- 
onds after  I  see  him.  He'll  hardly  be  a  match 
for  me,  I  think.  And  if  he's  too  impossibly 
queer  we'll  simply  have  to  keep  him  out  of  the 
way." 

"I  wish  I  knew,"  she  had  replied.  "It  would 
be  dreadful  to  have  Almeric's  family  think  we 
had  queer  connections  of  any  sort — even  in  a 
horrid  business  way — and  this  person  might 
turn  out  to  be  quite  shockingly  American." 
She  had  concluded  with  a  note  of  genuine 
pathos,  "I— I  couldn't  bear  it,  Hoddy!"  And 
now,  as  she  rode,  she  was  suddenly  again 
troubled  in  thought  by  this  imminent  unknown. 
Her  thoughts  rushed  from  ancient  fields  of 

64. 


SOME    WIT   AS   TO   DONKEYS 

battle  where  various  St.  Aubyns  performed 
feats  of  engaging  valor  back  to  the  present 
to  worriedly  ponder  the  advent  of  a  certain 
"old  Mr.  Pike."  She  hoped,  Oh,  fervently  she 
hoped — and  would  have  prayed  had  she  been 
of  an  earlier  generation — that  he  might  prove 
to  be  "a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,"  one  with 
neat  gray  side-whiskers,  ceremoniously  clad  in 
garments  of  black  broadcloth,  not  modish  of 
cut,  to  be  sure,  but  with  an  old-fashioned  flow 
of  line  not  ungraceful,  a  gentleman  profoundly 
courteous,  not  to  say  deferential  to  persons 
like  the  Earl  of  Hawcastle  and  Lady  Creech, 
who  would  glow  benevolently,  yet  a  bit  tim- 
idly upon  the  Honorable  Almeric  (being  ever 
acutely  aware  of  the  difference  in  their  stations 
and  their  pasts)  and  who  would  rather  prettily 
call  her  "My  dear"  and  felicitate  her  in  stately 
phrases  upon  the  wisdom  of  her  choice  among 
men — in  accents  not  rawly  enough  American 
to  actually  shame  one,  even  in  the  presence  of 
an  English  nobleman. 

65 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

Elatedly  she  drew  this  picture  of  old  Mr. 
Pike.  She  went  over  it  to  add  details — a  heavy 
and  dignified  seal  ring  on  the  left  hand,  a 
handsome  rumpled  crest  of  white  hair,  an  im- 
pressive bearing,  almost  a  manner,  and  so  kind, 
so  sympathetic,  so  artlessly  overjoyed  that  she, 
the  simple  American  girl,  should  have  reached 
this  eminence.  She  was  dramatizing  the  old 
gentleman  by  this  time.  He  gave  her  away 
at  the  altar,  furtively  wiping  a  suspicious  mois- 
ture from  his  kind  old  eyes.  Afterwards,  as  he 
drew  her  to  him  to  kiss,  which  he  did  with  a 
spice  of  old-world  gallantry,  he  would  say, 
"My  child,  I  never  had  a  daughter,  but  if 
Heaven  had  favored  me  with  one — "  Of  course 
his  emotion  overcame  him  here.  What  he  had 
meant  to  say  was  that  if  Heaven  had  vouch- 
safed him  a  daughter  as  fair  as  this  he  could 
never  have  wished  for  her  a  greater  happiness 
than  to  marry  a  son  of  the  Earl  of  Hawcastle. 
But  she  had  understood  him  and  gently  patted 
his  arm  and  called  him  a  silly  old  dear.  By  this 


SOME    WIT  AS   TO   DONKEYS 

time  she  was  feeling  a  rather  rugged  American 
pride  in  the  dear  old  survival  of  a  courtlier  day; 
but  she  was  here  recalled — at  the  moment  of 
accepting  his  final  blessing — by  the  voice  of 
her  fiance. 

"Silly  lookin'  jossers — ^whatl"  She  glanced 
up  to  find  that  he  indicated — quite  frankly  with 
his  riding-crop — two  passing  members  of 
Italy's  most  ornate  police  body  who  saluted 
as  they  passed.  "Silly  lookin'  jossers,  I  say," 
he  insisted,  for  the  girl's  mind,  scarce  recalled 
by  his  speech,  had  been  inclined  to  revert  to  her 
ingenuously  idealized  guardian,  further  to 
adorn  and  enhance  him,  it  may  be,  with  tender 
graces  of  manner. 

"And  more  of  the  beggars  there  ahead,  a  bit 
excited,  too,  by  Jove." 

They  rode  on  to  where  three  of  the  cara- 
biniere  consulted  mysteriously  at  the  mouth  of 
a  ravine,  while  a  fourth  explored  its  depths. 
On  the  hillside  above  the  brilliant  uniform  of 
another  was  seen  to  flit  among  the  olive  trees. 

67 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"Seem  to  be  havin'  no  end  of  a  row,"  con- 
tinued the  Honorable  Almeric  as  they  passed 
this  group.  "I  say,  there's  another  of  the  silly 
beggars  on  ahead.  Ask  him  what  the  deuce 
and  all  the  row's  about,  there's  a  good  girl. 
I  mean  to  say — perhaps  it's  a  bit  of  excite- 
ment." 

"Of  course  I'll  ask  him;  they  seem  to  be 
searching  for  someone  or  something."  She 
ceased  to  embellish  old  Mr.  Pike;  she  thrilled 
pleasantly  at  the  thought  of  rendering  this  St. 
Aubyn  a  service.  The  next  carabiniere — he 
seemed  to  have  been  posted  at  the  foot  of  some 
ancient  stone  steps  that  here  led  up  the  hill- 
side— saluted  graciously  as  the  pair  drew  rein 
before  him  and  exuded  a  smiling  amiability 
when  he  was  addressed  in  his  native  tongue  by 
the  most  beautiful  Signorina.  Being  apprised 
of  her  desire  for  facts,  he  forthwith  imparted 
them  unstintedly  and  with  an  abundant  sense 
of  the  dramatic,  gallantly  with  thumb  and 
finger  accentuating  the  fierceness  of  his  sable 

68 


SOME    WIT  AS   TO   DONKEYS 

mustaclie  as  he  recited.  The  Honorable  Al- 
meric  became  justifiably  impatient  under  this 
flow  of  a  language  that  had  won  neither  his 
esteem  nor  any  studious  attention. 

"Silly  gibberish!"  he  declared  pithily  as  they 
rode  on  at  his  urgent  solicitation,  stopping  the 
narrative  at  flood-tide.  "Dare  say  they  make 
a  go  of  it,  though  I  fancy  you  made  little  out 
of  what  that  silly  juggins  was  spoutin'." 

"Oh,  but  I  did,  and  it's  quite  exciting. 
They're  out  after  an  escaped  bandit  or  des- 
perado, or  whatever  you  call  it — only  he's  a 
Russian,  so  of  course  he's  an  anarchist  or  a 
nihilist  or  something  of  that  sort." 

"What  ho!  I  say,  but  that's  jolly;  perhaps 
we'll  see  them  give  it  him  with  those  silly  guns 
of  theirs."  The  languid  eyes  were  sparkUng 
now.  The  old  fighting-blood  of  St.  Aubyn 
seemed  definitely  aroused. 

"He  was  living  on  beyond  there,  at  Salerno 
— ^he'd  escaped  from  Siberia  or  some  Russian 
place — and  the  Russian  government  found  it 

69 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

out  and  had  the  Italian  government  arrest  him, 
and  so  then  he  got  away  from  them,  made  his 
escape,  you  know,  and  now  they  think  he's  hid- 
ing somewhere  along  this  road,  but  that  officer 
told  me  not  to  be  the  least  bit  afraid  because 
they  have  him  surrounded  and  are  bound  to 
catch  him  again  before  nightfall." 

"Silly  country — lettin'  such  creatures  loose 
along  a  public  road.  I  say,  we'd  best  be  jog- 
gin'  on  a  bit — desperate  chaps  those  anarch- 
ists." • 

"I  know  I  shouldn't  be  afraid,"  began  the 
girl,  but  she  was  forced  to  put  her  horse  to 
the  gallop  to  regain  her  companion's  side. 
Around  the  next  winding  of  that  beauteous 
road  they  both  pulled  up  short.  A  hundred 
yards  ahead  of  them  was  commotion,  shout- 
ing, turmoil.  Full  in  the  road  a  dense  cluster 
of  peasants  surged  about  the  heart  of  the  mys- 
tery, obscuring  it  for  the  moment  from  our 
observers. 

"But  it's  the  bandit  fellow — ^those  chaps 
70 


SOME    WIT  AS   TO   DONKEYS 

must  have  bagged  him!"  Thus  the  Honorable 
Almeric.  Miss  Granger-Simpson  scanned  the 
weaving  group  judicially. 

"It  must  be  something  else — ^they're  too 
jolly  for  that.  See  them  laugh,  and  they're 
shouting  so  cheerfully.  Surely  they  wouldn't 
be  that  jolly  over  a  bandit."  Her  inference 
seemed  just;  there  was  much  laughter  from 
the  ring  of  observers  and  shouts  of  encourage- 
ment for  some  hidden  performer.  Benevolent 
elder  sisters  were  holding  infants  aloft  and  even 
these  were  brandishing  grimy  fists  in  patent 
delight.  Then  swiftly  the  group  parted  with 
a  fine  Latin  gusto  of  exclamation,  revealing 
to  our  pair  the  cause  of  their  innocent  pleasure. 

Toiling  up  a  rise  in  the  road  and  dragging  a 
disabled  motor-car  were  two  donkeys  and  a 
man.  The  car  was  large,  of  a  sumptuous  as- 
pect, a  wounded  but  still  lordly  leviathan  towed 
by  lesser  fish  and  expressing  humiliation  and 
dismay  in  its  every  line.  Nor  was  it  yielding 
gracefully;  it  tugged  and  fought,  hung  back 

71 


THE  MAN   FROM  HOME 

with  all  its  weight.  The  donkeys  were  earnest 
in  their  labors,  small,  mouse-colored,  shaggy 
creatures  with  enormous  heads  and  sad  faces. 
The  man,  with  an  extemporized  leather  trace 
across  his  chest,  tugged  beside  them,  his  capa- 
ble shoulders  pushed  forward,  his  head  bent. 
One  observer,  not  a  peasant,  surveyed  the  scene 
from  a  foothold  on  the  bank  above  the  road 
with  a  lively  and  quite  unaffected  joy ;  a  portly 
man  of  forty-five  or  so,  though  soldierly 
rather  than  fat,  his  doffed  motoring-cap  reveal- 
ing reddish  blond  hair,  brushed  pompadour, 
and  beginning  to  turn  gray  like  his  mustache 
and  large  full  beard.  His  dress  produced  the 
effect  rather  of  carelessness  than  of  extreme 
fashion.  He  wore  a  travelling  suit  of  gray, 
neat  enough  but  rather  too  roomy  and  not  re- 
cently enough  pressed  to  win,  for  example,  the 
rather  difficult  approval  of  the  Honorable  Al- 
meric  who  is  firm  in  such  matters.  His  glance 
at  the  car  was  obviously  one  of  careless  owner- 
ship.    His  attitude  toward  the  curiously  as- 

72 


SOME   WIT  AS   TO   DONKEYS 

sorted  beings  that  drew  it  was,  as  w^e  have  in- 
timated, one  of  sheer  delight.  From  one  of  the 
big  slanting  pockets  of  the  long-tailed  coat  he 
drew  a  silver  cigarette  box  and,  lighting  a  cig- 
arette, he  mingled  his  cheers  frankly  with  those 
of  the  enchanted  peasantry  as,  after  a  nobly 
sustained  effort  the  three  panting  beasts  of 
burden  brought  their  load  to  the  top  of  the 
rise  and  to  mercifully  level  ground.  The  art- 
less children  of  the  soil  redoubled  their  shouts 
at  this  engaging  feat.  Their  number  was  being 
constantly  augmented.  Across  the  neigh- 
boring fields  and  vineyards  hurried  late-com- 
ers, youth  in  the  van,  the  aged  plodding  dog- 
gedly after.  Many  a  seamed  face  lit  up  with 
delight,  and  more  than  one  aged  child  of  that 
laughter-loving  race  must  have  thanked  God 
that  he  had  been  let  to  survive  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  this  delectable  wonder. 

Our  betrothed  pair  had,  despite  their  early 
qualms,  drawn  near  to  the  maelstrom,  near 
enough,  alas!  for  Miss  Granger-Simpson  to 

7S 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

receive  the  rudest  sort  of  shock  in  her  then 
sensitive  state,  for  the  man  of  the  panting  trio 
now  erected  himself  and  called  to  the  owner 
of  the  car  on  the  bank  above  him.  Entirely 
negligible  his  word  or  two,  some  note  of  en- 
couraging promise  as  to  future  progress,  but 
the  voice  of  this  unfastidious  creature,  this 
dustily  absurd  companion  of  donkeys,  came 
cruelly  to  the  girl  as  the  American  voice — ^not, 
mark  you,  as  merely  the  voice  of  an  American, 
of  which  there  are  many  interesting  and  some- 
times pleasing  varieties.  Noses  may  play 
tricks  as  anthropological  data,  but  the  Amer- 
ican voice  never  misleads  one  after  an  ade- 
quate first  hearing.  The  effect  upon  the  girl 
was  of  course  the  more  poignant  because  of 
her  late  successful  struggle  to  picture  one  par- 
ticular American  as  an  irresistible  old  dear,  in 
spite  of  his  unpromising  nativity.  Rudely  was 
she  shaken  back  to  a  consciousness  of  the  many 
chances  against  her  old  Mr.  Pike  being  any- 
thing like  the  romantic  figure  she  had  so  pleas- 

74 


SOME    WIT  AS   TO   DONKEYS 

antly  projected.  She  suffered  now  a  renewal 
of  her  old  suspense  as  to  the  unknown  guard- 
ian. In  addition  she  suffered  keenly  at  hav- 
ing the  sensitive  St.  Aubyn  to  whom  she  was 
pUghted  suffer  even  this  casual  roadside  en- 
counter with  one  of  the  more  wretchedly  im- 
possible types  of  her  countrymen.  For  the  mo- 
ment she  was  humiliated  for  at  least  eighty 
or  ninety  million  Americans  as  represented  by 
this  fantastic  fellow  of  them  who  pulled  cheer- 
fully beside  a  pair  of  rather  indignant  mouse- 
colored  donkeys  and  seemed  not  in  the  least  to 
care  what  figure  he  might  be  cutting  in  the 
eyes  of  the  foreigners  and  sensitive  compa- 
triots. 

Swiftly  she  lowered  her  veil,  detecting  this 
fellow  to  be  one  of  those  who  seem  to  believe 
that  a  sort  of  free-masonry  should  and  does 
unite  in  the  staunchest  of  fraternal  bonds  all 
Americans  who  find  themselves  abroad.  She 
knew  the  way  they  would, — strangers  until  that 
moment — elatedly  hail  one  another  at  sight. 

75 


THE  MAN   FROM  HOME 

She  not  only  shuddered  at  her  own  danger 
but  she  sought  to  restrain  the  Honorable  Al- 
meric  from  too  near  an  approach  to  this  mor- 
tifying person.  Even  though  her  country  was 
to  be  in  a  little  while  no  longer  hers,  she  still 
felt  that  she  would  like  to  have  Almeric  think 
not  too  slightly  of  it.  But  the  latter,  unheed- 
ing her  call,  had  ridden  to  the  edge  of  the 
crowd  where  he  could  closely  observe  the  chief 
actor.  Even  he  had  readily  identified  the 
American  voice  and  he  now  grinned  lavishly 
at  the  speaker  who,  in  turn,  surveyed  him  with 
frankly  pleased  interest. 

From  where  the  girl  had  reined  in  her  horse 
she  could  hear  the  hearty  words  of  her  fiance 
as,  after  a  brief  survey  of  the  scene,  he  called 
out  to  the  man  in  bondage,  "But  there  you  are, 
old  top, — ^three  of  you  in  a  row — ^what  !*'  She 
heard  also  the  full,  rich,  honest  laughter  that 
the  jest  evoked  from  the  speaker  himself.  She 
was  too  far  off,  however,  to  catch  the  Amer- 
ican's reply,  as  he  spoke  in  lower  tones.    She 

76 


SOME    WIT  AS   TO   DONKEYS 

was  able  to  remark,  though,  that  its  effect  upon 
the  Honorable  Almeric  was  instantly  sober- 
ing; she  could  easily  perceive,  indeed,  that  he 
was  puzzled  by  the  retort  she  could  not  hear. 
Not  so  the  owner  of  the  car  who  at  once  aston- 
ishingly flung  his  cap  into  the  air  and  fell  to 
the  sward  apparently  that  he  might  laugh  with 
more  freedom.  The  Honorable  Almeric  rode 
slowly  back,  muttering  in  obvious  bewilder- 
ment. The  mountain-side  was  yet  vocal  with 
the  crescendos  of  the  large  man's  mirth  as  they 
turned  their  horses'  heads  back  toward  Sor- 
rento. After  half  a  mile's  gallop  the  Hon- 
orable Almeric  seemed  to  shrug  off  the  be- 
wilderment that  had  dazed  him.  They  slowed 
to  a  walk,  and  he  turned  a  sunny  face  to  his 
companion. 

"One  of  your  American  chaps,  you  know, 
Ethel." 

The  girl  winced.  "Oh,  Almeric!  Not  my 
American  chaps,  please !  You  don't  know  how 
ashamed  I  was  when  I  saw  him — making  that 

77 


THE  MAN   FROM  HOME 

sickening  exhibition  of  himself.    Positively  I 
was  furious." 

"To  be  sure,"  he  gallantly  conceded,  "I  dare 
say  you're  not  all  that  bounder's  sort.  You 
should  have  heard  me  chivvy  him.  I  mean  to 
say,  directly  I  got  there  I  saw  a  rippin'  chance 
for  a  bit  of  chaff,  so,  like  a  flash,  I  said  to 
him,  'Why,  there  you  are,  you  know — ^three 
of  you  in  a  row!' — ^meanin'  this  bounder-chap 
and  the  two  donkeys,  do  you  see?  Three  of 
them  in  a  row — what!"  Once  more  he  cele- 
brated the  quip  with  fresh,  cordial  laughter. 
Then  bewilderment  again  clouded  his  face. 
"And  a  stupid  beggar  he  was,  too!  Couldn't 
think  of  anything  to  say  that  had  any  meanin' 
to  it — I'd  got  him  so  quick,  do  you  see?  And 
that  silly  ass  up  on  the  bank — the  chap  that 
owned  the  car,  I  take  it — a  slow  duffer  he  was ; 
took  him  a  whole  minute  to  see  what  a  capital 
bit  of  chaffing  I'd  done.  He  didn't  begin 
to  laugh  at  all  at  what  I'd  said  until  the  other 
chap  took  it  so  seriously  with  his  silly  answer. 

78 


SOME   WIT  AS   TO  DONKEYS 

Then  he  must  have  seen  how  I'd  ragged  him. 
Quite  off  his  head  with  laughing  he  was,  when 
I  left.  Dare  say  he  can  see  a  bit  of  spoofin' 
like  that  if  you  give  him  time.  Stupid,  your 
American  chap,  though.  Didn't  see  a  bit  I  was 
raggin'  him — ^took  it  all  quite  serious,  do  you 
see — talkin'  back  in  the  most  serious  silly 
way  I"  And  yet  across  the  face  of  the  speaker 
would  now  and  again  pass  a  shadow,  faint  per- 
haps, like  the  shadow  of  a  summer  cloud  on  a 
yellowing  field,  but  unmistakable.  He  was 
still,  it  could  be  seen,  vaguely  troubled  by  some- 
thing of  sinister  import  in  that  serious,  silly 
retort  of  the  American  chap. 

"Thank  Heaven,"  said  the  girl  devoutly, 
"we've  seen  the  last  of  them." 

"Excitin'  mornin',  whatl  Russian  bandit, 
American  donkey!"  Again  the  Honorable 
Almeric  beamed  with  the  satisfaction  of  one 
who  has  tilted  in  the  tourney  of  wit  and  van- 
quished an  inept  opponent, 

"Let's  hurry,"  said  the  girl.  "We  shall  be 
79 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

starved."  But  it  was  not  for  hunger  that  she 
urged  on  her  horse.  Rather  than  incur  fur- 
ther comment  upon  this  disheartening  country- 
man of  hers  she  preferred  to  go  swiftly  and 
in  silence  so  that  she  might  in  her  mind  return 
to  the  pleasant  creation  of  dear  old  Mr.  Pike 
yvho,  though  frankly  an  American,  would  con- 
duct himself  at  all  times  as  a  gentleman  should. 
He  would  never  forget  himself  in  that  manner 
on  a  public  highway.  Perish  the  thought!  A 
dozen  times  it  perished  in  the  five  miles  of 
hard  riding. 

Leaving  the  girl  to  this  pleasant  mental 
device  and  the  Honorable  Almeric  to  intermit- 
tent seasons  of  brooding  wherein  he  again  and 
again  would  suspect  the  innocence  of  that 
American  chap's  serious,  silly  retort,  we  may 
precede  the  pair  to  the  terrace  of  the  Hotel 
Regina  Margherita. 

Here  at  that  table  which  Mariano  first  be- 
decked so  skillfully  this  morning  sit  his  lord- 
ship, the  Earl  of  Hawcastle  and  Madame  la 

80 


SOME   WIT  AS   TO   DONKEYS 

Comtesse  de  Champigny.  His  lordship  grace- 
fully adorns  the  flannel  garments  imposed 
upon  one  by  this  ardent  sun.  The  Comtesse, 
as  is  her  wont,  makes  a  completed  picture. 
Never  is  she  a  mere  sketch.  The  last  detail  of 
chiffon,  ribbon,  gauze  and  plumage  has  been 
carefully  wrought  out.  The  pair  conclude 
what  has  plainly  been  an  agreeable  repast.  His 
lordship  lights  a  cigarette,  the  Comtesse  de 
Champigny  prettily  droops  her  slender  hands 
above  the  bowl  before  her  and  barely  touches 
her  fine  fingers  to  the  water  it  holds.  She 
smiles  with  an  oblique  little  glance  at  her  com- 
panion. 

"He  is  so  funny,  that  little  American  boy. 
I  laugh  so  much  at  him — ^he  thinks  I  laugh 
woith  him." 

"You  handled  him  well,  Helene,  about  the 
settlement,  I  mean."  The  Earl  of  Hawcastle 
smiled  in  sympathy  with  her. 

"Poof!  One  did  not  find  that  difficult,  my 
friend.     A  trifle  of  finesse,  perhaps.     But  I 

81 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

tell  you,  he  required  no  'handling.'  He  did  all 
that  handling  himself — *one  hundred  feefty 
thousan'  poun's!  But  really,  chere  Comtesse, 
how  could  my  sister  use  that  money  to  better 
advantage?'  Like  that,  said  he.  And  I  say 
with  very  big  eyes,  *Ah,  my  dear  friend,  how 
wise  you  are!'  Then  I  go  to  laugh  myself 
well,  thinking  of  that  beautiful  son  of  yours 
for  which  she  will  pay  so  much." 

"Ah,  it's  not  for  Almeric,  though;  it's  for 
the  sake  of  being  the  future  Countess  of  Haw- 
castle.  She  has  learned  to  value  those  things. 
My  sister-in-law  hasn't  been  her  chaperone  for 
a  year  for  nothing.  And,  by  Jove,  she  hasn't 
done  it  for  nothing,  either."  His  lordship 
laughed  rather  grimly.  "But  she's  deserved 
all  I  shall  allow  her — every  penny." 

There  is  the  faintest  trace  of  coolness  in  the 
other's  quickly  uttered  "Why?" 

"But  it  was  she  who  found  these  people,  she 
who  cultivated  in  them  what  we  all  agree  is  a 
very  worthy  ambition  on  their  part,  and,  I  need 

82 


SOME   WIT  AS   TO  DONKEYS 

not  remind  you,  did  all  this  at  a  time  when 
there  had  come  to  be  a  very  embarrassing  need 
for  it.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  there  would 
have  been  the  devil  to  pay.  Don't  miss  that 
essential.  We  were  at  the  breaking  point — ^if 
you  like  the  words,  a  most  damnable  insol- 
vency. And  another  thing,  we  might  say  that 
both  you  and  I  owe  her  something.  Even  a 
less  captious  respectability  than  Lady  Creech's 
might  have  looked  askance  at  the  long,  shall  we 
say  friendship,  that  has  existed  between  us. 
Indeed,  she  has  earned  much."  He  arose  and 
came  to  her  side. 

"But  you  are  right,  of  course,  my  friend,  so 
always  you  are.  I  forget  many  things,"  she 
sighed  as  the  other  lightly  raised  her  hand  to 
his  lips,  "Droll,  is  it  not,  so  many  things  we 
have  been  let  to  forget?" 

"And  your  own  little  American,  Helene — 
win  he— has  he " 

"Not  yet,  my  friend,  but  it  will  be  when 
I  wish,  that  moment;  I  must  but  snap  the 

83 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

thumb  and  finger  like  that,  as  one  says."  Here 
the  Comtesse  indulged  in  dainty  but  effective 
pantomime,  the  snapped  finger  resounding  so 
that  Mariano  conceived  himself  to  be  sum- 
moned from  the  distant  doorway  where  he 
seemed  anxiously  to  await  a  guest.  Discov- 
ering his  mistake  he  proceeded  to  effect  minute 
changes  in  the  positions  of  the  equipment  on 
'an  adjacent  table,  a  table  already  showing 
signs  of  having  been  laid  with  unusual  care. 

"Ah,  Mariano,  you  expect  other  guests?" 
Thus  amiably  the  Earl  of  Hawcastle. 

"A  German  gentleman,  Milor',  a  Herr  von 
GroUerhagen,  who  is  to  arrive  with  a  friend  for 
the  dejeuner.  I  set  this  table  for  them."  He 
glanced  up  expectantly  at  the  sound  of  ap- 
proaching steps,  but  the  newcomers  were  not 
those  he  waited  for. 

Appeared  instead  the  Honorable  Ahneric 
and  Miss  Granger- Simpson,  the  latter  flushed 
from  the  ride,  the  former  still  exulting  over  his 
victory  in  a  certain  bout  of  repartee. 

84 


SOME    WIT   AS   TO   DONKEYS 


"Oh,  I  say,  what  a  go!"  he  began,  falling 
into  one  of  the  wicker  chairs  with  an  easy 
sprawling  effect  of  his  gaitered  legs.  "Motor- 
car breaks  down  on  the  way  here.  One  of  the 
Johnnies  in  it — a  German,  something  of  that 
sort — discharges  the  chauffeur  and  the  other 
Johnny— one  of  Ethel's  Yankee  chaps,''— the 
girl  winced  and  raised  a  protesting  hand — "has 
got  two  silly  little  donkeys,  like  rabbits,  you 
know,  to  pull  the  machine.  Then  as  the  little 
beasts  can't  make  it,  what  does  he  do  but  put 
himself  in  the  straps  with  'em  and  go  tuggin' 
up  a  hill.  Ha,  ha!  I  say.  Well,  as  I  was 
tellin'  you " 

"Don't  mumble  your  words!"  The  stately 
but  fierce  tones  were  those  of  Lady  Creech 
who  had  approached  during  this  spirited  nar- 
rative. Her  nephew  had  not  mumbled  his 
words  and  he  now  favored  her  with  a  glance 
of  disapproval. 

"As  I  was  tellin'  you,"  he  continued,  again 
amiable,  "I  went  up  to  this  Yankee  chap " 

^5 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

* 'Dreadful  persons!"  Lady  Creech  had 
caught  the  term. 

"I  mean  to  say,  he  was  pulhn'  and  tuggin' 
along  in  the  straps,  you  see,  don't  you,  and 
quick  as  a  flash  I  says  to  the  silly  beggar,  'Why, 
there  you  are,  three  of  you  in  a  row,  aren't 
you?'  meanin'  him  and  the  two  donkeys,  of 
course,  do  you  see?"  Again  he  permitted  him- 
self a  moment's  hearty  enjoyment  of  the  sally. 
When  he  had  recovered  he  resumed  indig- 
nantly, "But  this  Yankee  chap  was  the  most 
serious  juggins,  I  mean  to  say.  He  looked  di- 
rectly at  me,  and  all  he  could  answer  was  that 
he'd  picked  the  best  company  in  sight.  *Well, 
I  picked  the  best  company  in  sight,'  says  he, 
serious  as  could  be,  like  that." 

"Dreadful  person!"  Lady  Creech  had  heard 
sufficient  to  justify  this.  Miss  Granger-Simp- 
son shuddered.  That  unheard  retort  had  in- 
deed been  more  atrocious  than  she  could  have 
suspected;  so  truly  and  atrociously  American. 

"No  meanin'  to  it,"  grumbled  the  Honor- 
86 


SOME    WIT  AS   TO   DONKEYS 

able  Almeric,  though  with  a  slight  questioning 
glance  at  the  faces  of  his  hearers,  still  with 
a  worried  suspicion  that  the  enigmatic  speech 
had  carried  a  subtle  venom.  "No  meanin'  to 
it,"  he  insisted  again  though  he  had  been  un- 
contradicted. "I  had  him,  you  know,  I  rather 
think,  didriH  I?" 

"And  more  excitement,"  put  in  the  girl, 
praying  that  this  impossible  countryman  of 
hers  might  be  forgotten.  "We  saw  such  a 
lot  of  those  funny  policemen  searching  for  an 
escaped  convict,  a  bandit  or  something  of  that 
kind." 

"A  bandit  in  this  civilized  age?"  Thus  Lord 
Hawcastle. 

"That  is  what  they  called  him,  but  then  they 
explained  that  he  was  an  escaped  convict — 
he'd  been  living  in  Salerno,  but  first  he'd  got- 
ten away  from  Siberia  where  they  send  those 
Russian  anarchists " 

"A  Russian!"  This  exclamation  from  the 
Comtesse  de  Champigny,  sudden,  and  quite 

87 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

involuntary,  at  once  put  her  in  the  questioning 
gaze  of  the  others.  She  dissipated  a  momen- 
tary confusion  by  the  prettiest  of  shrugs. 
"Such  wicked  men  those  escaped  ones  from 
Siberia — I  fear  we  shall  be  murdered  in  our 
sleeps!" 

"But  they  have  him  surrounded,  he'll  be  re- 
taken before  nightfall;  the  carabiniere  I  talked 
to  was  sure  of  that."  Miss  Granger-Simpson 
sought  to  reassure  the  timid  Frenchwoman. 

"Quite  so,"  confirmed  the  Honorable  Al- 
meric.  "Carabiniere  all  over  the  shop  with 
their  silly  guns " 

"Don't  mumble  your  words,"  warned  Lady 
Creech.  Her  nephew  approached  her,  achieved 
a  megaphone  effect  with  his  hands  and  shouted, 
"Lookin'  for  a  bally  bandit!" 

Lady  Creech  permitted  herself  a  scream. 
"Murdered  in  our  beds,"  she  proclaimed, 
grimly  prophetic. 

"They're  bound  to  pot  the  beggar,"  her 
nephew  assured  her.    "By  Jove,  I  must  look 

88 


SOME    WIT  AS    TO   DONKEYS 

out  my  own  gun.  Shouldn't  mind  havin'  a 
go  at  a  bit  of  bandit  shootin'  myself,  what!" 

Lady  Creech  with  a  backward  glance  of 
alarm  into  the  fell  recesses  of  the  garden,  be- 
gan a  dignified  but  direct  progress  to  the  hotel. 
"Americans,  bandits — dreadful  persons.  Come 
Ethel,  we'd  best  have  luncheon  indoors." 

The  Honorable  Almeric  arose,  yawned  in  a 
public  manner  and  followed  the  pair,  mutter- 
ing as  he  went.  Try  as  he  would  he  could  not 
banish  the  monstrous  suspicion  that  the  Amer- 
ican chap  had  really  meant  something  after  all 
by  his  silly  words. 

The  Comtesse  de  Champigny  turned  quickly 
to  the  Earl  of  Hawcastle,  a  curious  tremor  of 
alarm  in  her  beautiful  eyes. 

"You  heard — from  Siberia,"  she  said  rap- 
idly. His  lordship  regarded  her  with  a  look 
of  himfiorous  reassurance  as  one  would  regard 
a  child  who  conjures  bogies  to  its  own  panic. 

"Nonsense,  Helene!  You're  too  imagina- 
tive.   Certain  parts  of  Siberia  are  densely  pop- 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

ulated.  Why  should  you  suspect  that  because 
one  has  escaped " 

"But  I  tell  you  why;  because  for  three  nights 
I  have  dreamed  of  him,  and  now  this  happens. 
It  makes  me  fear.  Silly,  yes,  but  I  cannot 
help  it." 

The  Earl  of  Hawcastle  protectingly  caught 
her  trembling  arm. 

"Nonsense!"  he  repeated;  "not  a  chance  in 
a  milUon." 


CHAPTER  V 

A  BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

Almost  an  hour  has  passed,  seeming  indeed 
all  of  two  hours  to  the  perturbed  Mariano 
hovering  about  his  set  table.  He  looks  at  his 
watch,  then  as  if  doubting  its  testimony,  squints 
shrewdly  at  the  overhead  sun.  He  has  heard 
the  roadside  gossip  of  an  escaped  Russian  con- 
vict. He  sincerely  hopes  that  this  circumstance 
IS  no  factor  in  the  delayed  arrival  of  a  certain 
Herr  von  GroUerhagen.  And  yet  one  never 
knows  —  certainly  the  German  gentleman 
should  have  arrived  ere  this,  should  even  now 
be  perhaps  exclaiming  with  delight  at  the 
skilled  table  service  of  the  Hotel  Regina  Mar- 
gherita  as  supervised  by  its  experienced  maitre 
d'hotel.    Mariano   savagely  flicked   a   fallen 

91 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

leaf  from  the  shining  damask  of  his  table  and 
with  scowling  intensity  brought  a  fork  and 
spoon  into  better  alignment.  Michele,  lurking 
near,  lynx-eyed  for  the  technique  of  the  master, 
shaped  his  lips  ever  and  again  to  weird  syllables 
of  a  gutteral  quality  endowed,  as  he  firmly  be- 
lieved, with  a  magic  to  forward  him  in  his 
chosen  profession. 

Voices  sound  from  the  hotel  and  Mariano 
brightens,  but  is  again  cast  down  at  perceiving 
only  the  party  of  English  ones.  The  others 
follow  Lord  Hawcastle  who  has  burdened 
himself  with  the  day's  mail.  They  gather  about 
him  at  one  of  the  wicker  tables  screened  from 
the  sun.  There  is  a  fluttering  moment  in  which 
he  distributes  letters.  He  then  takes  up  the 
papers. 

"The  Pink  'un  Governor."  The  Honorable 
Almeric  interestedly  strips  his  choice  of  its 
wrapper. 

"The  Church  Register"  demanded  the  voice 
of  Lady  Creech, — with  the  effect  of  intoning 

92 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

it.  She  seated  herself  austerely  over  this  per- 
mitted indulgence. 

Horace  Granger-Simpson  in  firm  tones 
begged  for  the  London  Times.  It  was  not  a 
sheet  he  enjoyed,  and  only  by  the  constant 
goading  of  his  attention  could  he  appear  to  be 
doing  so,  yet  he  now  sat  to  it  with  rather  ex- 
travagant manifestations  of  delight.  The  Com- 
tesse  de  Champigny,  already  bestowed  efiFec- 
tively  by  the  table,  scanned  her  Paris  daily. 
The  Earl  of  Hawcastle,  honestly  desiring  the 
TimeSj  poUtely  pretended  with  a  lesser  sheet. 
Miss  Granger- Simpson  timidly  halted  Ahneric 
who  had  seemed  about  to  deprive  the  party  of 
his  presence. 

"Going  for  a  stroll,  Almeric?  Would  you 
like  me  to  go  with  you?" 

Her  fiance  frowned  studiously.  "Well,  you 
know,  I  rather  thought  I'd  have  a  quiet  bit  of 
readin'."  He  tenderly  renewed  his  clasp  of 
the  Pink  'un.   "That  is  if  you  don't  mind." 

"But  of  course  not  1"  She  turned  back  to  the 
99 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

table  of  silent  readers.  She  had  minded,  a 
little.  She  had  changed  into  a  frock  that  she 
had  fondly  hoped  might  engage  the  notice  even 
of  a  veritable  St.  Aubyn, — and  the  Honorable 
Almeric  had  remained  immoved  before  its 
shimmering  play  of  pinks  and  lavender!  She 
sighed  as  she  joined  the  group,  blankly  eyeing 
a  London  journal  not  in  use. 

Presently,  one  by  one,  the  readers  began 
to  raise  annoyed  glances  from  their  papers,  the 
cause  being  a  distant  but  discordant  commo- 
tion in  the  village  street  outside.  A  shouting 
and  a  tumult  there  were  such  as  even  the  in- 
sensitive ears  of  Lady  Creech  could  not  ignore. 
The  papers  were  impatiently  readjusted  and 
the  annoyed  glances  from  one  to  another  of 
the  group  became  questioning. 

"What  disgracefully  noisy  people  these 
Italians  are!"  observed  the  Earl  of  Hawcastle. 
"The  slightest  excuse  serves  them  for  an  up- 


roar." 


'They  have  so  much  to  learn  from  the  Eng- 
94 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

lishl"  Brother  Horace  sighed  as  if  abandon- 
ing all  hope  that  they  ever  really  would  learn 
it,  for  the  noise  increased  momentarily.  The 
shouting  could  now  be  distinguished  as  cheers 
with  a  faint  accompaniment  of  mandolins  and 
guitars.  It  came  ever  nearer.  There  could 
hardly  longer  be  a  pretense  of  reading,  for 
just  beyond  the  wall  of  the  garden  at  least  a 
hundred  lusty  throats  of  this  notably  vocal  race 
were  being  strained  to  their  utmost.  The  dom- 
inant strain  was  one  of  sheer  joy,  and,  more- 
over, it  was  now  possible  to  distinguish  certain 
phrases  of  the  vivacious  libretto.  At  least  the 
ears  of  Miss  Granger-Simpson  already  quick- 
ened by  a  premonition  of  evil — she  had  lively 
memories  of  a  similar  shouting  back  on  the 
roadside — now  caught  random  words  that  froze 
her  with  dismay.  • 

"Yanka  Dooda!  Yanka  Dooda!"  shrilled 
a  tenor  of  no  mean  attainments,  and  this  was 
followed  by  a  baritone  of  "Bravo  Americano!" 

She  stared  in  dull  dismay  at  the  newspaper 
95 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

before  her,  every  alert  nerve  tingling  its  mes- 
sage of  alarm  to  her  quickened  heart.  In- 
stantly she  had  known  the  worst.  The  dis- 
abled automobile,  its  boorish  owner  and  even 
that  impossible  countryman  of  hers  had  made 
their  way  to  the  very  portals  of  the  Hotel 
[Regina  Margherita.  But  surely  they  would 
pass  on  with  their  wretched  buffoonery!  With- 
out knowing  it  she  prayed  that  they  would 
pass  on,  prayed  with  still  lips  but  as  ingen- 
uously as  a  young  nun.  Her  expressed  thought 
would  have  been,  "Surely  there  is  a  just  God 
ruling  over  all — He  can't  let  them  come  herer 

Mariano  at  this  point  hastened  from  the 
hotel  to  a  post  by  his  jealously  guarded  table. 
It  was  plain  that  he  labored  under  a  seizure 
of  conflicting  emotions.  He  had  been  both  hor- 
rified and  amused;  one  could  guess  that,  of 
one  sort  or  another,  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

The  Earl  of  Hawcastle  had  borne,  he  con- 
sidered, all  that  any  English  gentleman  should 
bear  of  annoyance  in  a  foreign  land. 

9Q 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

"I  say,  Mariano,  how  long  is  this  disgusting 
uproar  to  continue?" 

Mariano  raised  both  hands,  pahns  outward, 
held  them  thus  for  an  eloquent  moment,  then 
dropped  them  despairingly,  quite  as  if  he  were 
through  with  those  particular  hands  for  all 
time. 

"How  can  I  tell,  milor'?  It  is  awful 
funny  thing — "  Mariano  chose  his  words 
with  more  discrimination  than  many  who  are 
not  above  this  phrase:  He  really  meant  that  it 
was  awful  and  that  it  was  funny —  He  looked 
at  one  of  the  discarded  hands  and  seemed  to 
decide  that  it  might  be  used  once  more.  He 
flung  it  to  one  side,  again  with  spreading  palm, 
and  inclined  his  head  toward  it  at  the  obtuse 
angle  his  stout  neck  permitted.  The  hand  was 
Confession;  the  tilted  head  paid  a  sorrowing 
attention  to  it.  "Si,  it  is  droll  the  most  ter- 
rible. Those  ones  that  shout  and  make  a  dis- 
gusting uproar  will  not  go  off  while  they  think 
there  is  once  more  a  chance  to  look  at  the  North 

97 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

American  who  pull  the  automobile  with  the 
donkeys." 

"Hallo,  though!"  His  lordship  brightened. 
"It  must  be  the  pair  you  saw  on  the  road  this 
morning.  They've  come  to  our  hotel.  One  of 
your  American  chaps,  you  said?" 

If  Miss  Granger- Simpson  heard  this  remark 
— and  it  was  pointedly  addressed  to  her— she 
gave  no  sign.  Her  mind  had  frozen  on  the 
horror  of  this  grotesque  compatriot  of  hers. 
She  saw  again  his  straining  shoulders,  bent 
but  towering  above  the  beasts  at  his  side.  Her 
brother  seemed  to  divine  her  plight. 

"Not  our  Americans,"  he  flashed;  "one  could 
hardly  say  that,  could  one?"  There  was  the 
daring  of  a  delicate  rebuke  in  his  tones  as  he 
again  lowered  his  eyes  to  the  London  Times. 
He  was  glad  indeed  it  chanced  to  be  the  Times, 

Mariano  at  a  sign  from  Michele  now  has- 
tened to  the  hotel  entrance.  Together  they 
stood  there  at  attention.  From  between  them 
issued  a  person  in  the  genteel  garb  of  a  menial, 

98 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

carrying  before  him  a  tray  on  which  reposed 
a  silver  dish  of  caviar  and  a  bottle  of  vodka. 
These  delicacies  he  placed  on  the  set  table,  un- 
der Mariano's  frantic  glare.  Mariano  was  torn 
between  the  wish  to  place  them  properly 
(which  he  conceived  that  the  valet  had  not  at 
all  done)  and  the  stronger  impulse  to  stay 
where  he  was.  The  tension  induced  by  this 
battle  of  the  spirit  was  not  lost  upon  the  now 
watchful  Earl  of  Hawcastle. 

"Upon  my  soul,  who's  all  this?"  he  de- 
manded. 

Mariano,  once  more  professionally  con- 
gealed, spoke  in  an  awed  undertone  and  with- 
out turning  his  head. 

"It  is  a  German  gentleman,  Milor' — a" — 
he  swallowed  nervously —  "a  Herr  von  GroUer- 
hagen."  Michele  framed  his  now  practised 
lips  to  the  same  mystic  vocables,  though  he 
had  begun  to  suspect  that  they  did  not  con- 
stitute a  charm  against  evil. 

His  lordship  deigned  to  be  amused.  "Ger- 
99 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

man,  eh?  Man  that  owned  the  automobile,  to 
be  sure."  He  briefly  again  reviewed  the  elab- 
orate setting  of  the  table,  the  attitudes  of 
strained  attention  exhibited  by  the  three  servi- 
tors. He  drew  his  own  pithy  and  simple  con- 
clusion: "Probably  made  a  huge  fortune  in 
sausages."  Even  his  lordship  would  not  be 
above  the  winged  quip  at  moments  so  propi- 
tious as  this.  Nor  did  he  wholly  lose  his  in- 
terest in  the  spectacle  when  Mariano  and 
Michele  bowed  low  before  the  person  who  now 
emerged  briskly  from  the  hotel — ^the  man,  in 
short,  whom  we  last  observed  surrendering 
himself  to  the  green  earth  of  Italy  that  he 
might  laugh  the  better. 

"This  way,  Herr  von  GroUerhagen.  The 
dejeuner  shall  be  served  instantly."  Mariano 
has  regained  his  ease  of  manner,  his  tension 
relaxing.  Even  Michele  who  has  all  the  morn- 
ing felt  the  strain  of  some  hovering  mystery 
now  draws  an  easy  breath  as  he  inserts  a  chair 
under  the  trustfully  descending  form  of  their 

100 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 


guest.  After  all,  here  is  but  a  large  and  amia- 
ble looking  gentleman  who,  even  to  Michele's 
untrained  eye,  will  have  the  habit  of  lavishing 
abundant  largesse  upon  those  who  serve  him 
acceptably. 

"What  a  dreadful  person!"  Lady  Creech 
advances  this  after  a  brief  upward  glance  from 
the  columns  of  the  Church  Register. 

"See  to  my  American  friend  yonder,"  came 
the  voice  of  the  newcomer  addressing  Mariano. 
The  Earl  of  Hawcastle  thereupon  favored  his 
sister-in-law  with  a  reminding  glance. 

"Quite  right,  but  take  care — ^he  speaks  Eng- 
lish." 

Lady  Creech  was  not  for  caution  or  con- 
cealment of  her  views. 

"Many  thoroughly  objectionable  people  do," 
she  responded  in  firm  tones. 

Both  of  her  speeches  had  been  of  a  resonance 
to  be  envied  by  more  than  one  platform  orator. 
The  objectionable  person  who  spoke  English 
permitted  himself  the  slightest  turn  of  his  head 

101 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

and  a  brief  shifting  of  his  glance  from  the 
caviar  now  being  served  to  him  by  Mariano. 
It  was  as  if  he  had  detected  a  draft  from  an 
open  window  that  might  presently  have  to  be 
closed.  He  continued  to  speak  an  English  that 
was  curiously  faultless  in  its  polish  and  that 
yet  betrayed  itself  as  foreign  to  him — ^though 
we  may  note  its  being  English  little  enough 
after  the  German  manner  as  that  is  commonly 
encountered.  "My  American  friend,  it  seems, 
desired  his  own  national  dish,"  he  affably  con- 
fided to  Mariano. 

"Ah,  yes,  Herr  von  Grollerhagen."  The 
atrocious  tale  had  been  borne  to  Mariano.  "He 
greatly  criticize  that  national  dish  as  it  have 
been  prepared  for  him  in  the  hotel  at  Napoli. 
He  say  the  Italians  know  not  the  true  Amer- 
ican method.  He  himself  go  to  the  kitchen 
to  make  sure.  But  he  have  confuse  us — ^he 
have  confuse  everyone  with  that  national  dish 
of  his.  He  will  have  the  hams  fried  and  the 
eggs  cooked  but  on  one  of  two  sides,  as  if  an 

102 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

egg  shall  have  sides  like  another  object  more 
square — ^yet  that  is  how  he  say  it.  Hal  He 
have  done  it.  He  come,  Herr  von  Groller- 
hagen." 

Michele  issued  from  the  hotel,  bearing  to  the 
table  a  tray  from  which  he  removed  a  dish. 
Covered  though  it  was,  no  one  in  that  garden 
could  have  suspected  it  to  contain  anything 
but  ham  and  eggs.  Lady  Creech  put  to  its 
heaven-intended  use  a  nose  that  was  superbly 
English.  Miss  Granger- Simpson  shuddered 
as  she  realized  that  she  was  unable  to  glance 
away  from  the  portal  that  had  already  yielded 
Michele  and  his  aromatic  treasure.  She  wished 
to  look  away;  she  wished  to  flee.  She  re- 
mained ;  she  stared  with  horror-fixed  eyes.  This 
perverse  self-torture  of  hers  became  unutter- 
ably poignant  as  there  framed  itself  in  the 
doorway  the  radiant  figure  of  the  young  man 
who  had  behaved  that  morning  as  no  one  ought 
to  and  as  only  a  countryman  of  her  own  would 
be  likely  to. 

108 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

With  shrewd,  humorous,  kindly  eyes  he  sur- 
veyed the  glaring  group  as  he  bestowed  upon 
an  anxious  menial  the  towel  with  which  he 
had  wiped  his  hands. 

**I  didn't  know  there  were  folks  here,"  he  re- 
marked in  easy  tones.  "I  reckon  you'll  have 
to  excuse  me."  Undoubtedly  it  wore  the  look 
of  an  apology.  The  group  of  indignant  ob- 
servers might  have  taken  it  as  addressed  to 
themselves,  or  they  might  not.  The  speaker 
seemed  to  trouble  himself  no  further  in  the 
matter  but  proceeded  swiftly  to  the  table.  The 
eyes  of  Miss  Granger- Simpson  followed  him 
with  hypnotic  submission.  There  was  agony 
in  their  profound  depths.  And  brother  Hor- 
ace, not  properly  alarmed  until  this  moment, 
now  knew  the  worst,  knew  all  the  prefatory 
suffering  of  his  sensitive  sister.  A  deep  glow 
suffused  his  earnest  young  face,  but  his  eyes 
remained  firm  upon  strange  unrelated  words 
that  danced  in  wild  indecorum  across  the  page 
of  the  dignified  journal  he  now  held  well  aloft. 

104 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

As  if  those  kindly  English  souls  had  divined 
the  mortification  of  these  young  people  there 
seemed  now  about  the  reading  table  a  tactful 
resolve  to  ignore  the  presence  of  this  too  pat- 
ently American  intruder,  though  the  latter 
promised  with  his  every  word  to  render  this 
feat  increasingly  difiicult. 

"You  are  a  true  patriot,  my  friend.  You 
will  permit  no  profane  liberties  with  your  na- 
tional dish.  I  trust  you  will  achieve  as  distin- 
guished success  with  that  wicked  motor  of 
mine."  Thus  the  alleged  German  as  he  raised 
a  tiny  glass  of  vodka  to  his  lips. 

The  American  chuckled  as  if  at  his  own  as- 
sured competence.  "Lord  bless  your  soul! 
I've  put  a  self-binder  together  after  a  pony- 
engine  had  butted  it  half  way  through  a  brick 
depot."  . 

"You  have  studied  mechanics  at  your  univer- 
sity?" 

"University?  Me?  Bless  your  heart,  no !  I 
studied  mechanics  on  the  old  man's  farm." 

105 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

His  companion  nodded  with  a  sort  of  grave 
comprehension,  regarding  for  a  moment  then 
the  ham  and  eggs.  "Let  me  persuade  you  to 
accept  a  bit  of  one  of  my  own  national  dishes — 
caviar." 

"Caviar?  I've  heard  of  that.  I  thought  it 
was  Russian."  He  regarded  the  proffered  deU- 
cacy  with  interest,  thereby  missing  a  curious 
brief  tremor  in  the  eyes  of  Mariano. 

"It  is  also  German? — ^will  you  not?"  There 
was  a  brief  flutter,  too,  in  the  heavy-lidded 
eyes  of  the  speaker,  as  Mariano  placed  a 
spoonful  of  caviar  on  a  silver  dish  by  the 
American's  plate.  He  glanced  at  it  adventur- 
ously. 

"I  expect  I'd  never  get  to  the  legislature 
again  if  the  boys  back  home  heard  about  it. 
Still,  I  reckon  I'm  far  enough  away  from 
home  to  take  a  few  risks."  He  loaded  a  fork 
with  the  prized  roe  and  seemed  to  engulf  it 
in  a  friendly  smile.  Slowly  the  smile  faded. 
His  face  became  thoughtful,  then  grave.    Ab- 

106 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

sently  he  returned  the  fork  to  the  plate  and 
eyed  his  companion.  His  mouth  was  firmly 
closed,  his  jaws  moving  slightly,  almost  tim- 
idly. His  look  was  puzzled,  plaintive,  eloquent. 

"But  I  fear  you  do  not  like  it."  The  Ger- 
man seemed  sincerely  concerned.  "Here,  my 
friend;  a  swallow  of  vodka  will  take  away  the 
taste."  Quickly  he  poured  and  proffered  a  tiny 
glass  of  the  spirit.  The  American  reached 
blindly  for  this  and  eagerly  drained  the  glass. 
This  he  replaced  quietly  enough  on  the  table, 
but  his  eyelids  fluttered  and  he  bent  upon  his 
hospitable  neighbor  a  look  of  dumb  suffer- 
ing. Then  he  managed  a  faint,  distrustful 
smile. 

"I  never  had  any  business  to  leave  home," 
he  declared  in  the  feeble  tones  of  a  convalescent. 

"I  am  so  sorry,  my  friend,  truly — "  He 
paused  as  the  American  surprisingly  engulfed 
another  forkful  of  the  caviar — "But  I  thought 
you  did  not  like  the  caviar!" 

"It's  to  take  away  the  taste  of  the  vodka," 
107 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

returned  the  American  with  simple  pathos. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  this  too- Amer- 
ican behavior  had  gone  unregarded  by  those 
at  the  adjacent  table.  Miss  Granger- Simpson 
had  mercifully  been  able  to  detach  her  gaze 
from  the  creature,  and  brother  Horace  had 
buried  his  face  deeper  in  the  profundities  of 
his  paper,  but  each  was  acutely  aware  of  the 
scene.  Lady  Creech  had  frankly  let  her  pe- 
riodical rest  in  her  lap  and  without  any  abating 
or  concealment  was  fixing  the  noxious  intruder 
with  the  glare  of  a  basilisk.  Even  the  less  im- 
pressionable lord  Hawcastle  was  moved  now 
to  remark,  "Without  disrespect  to  you,  my  dear 
chap,  what  terrific  bounders  the  most  of  your 
countrymen  are!" 

"Do  you  wonder  that  Sis  and  I  have  eman- 
cipated ourselves  from  that  sort  of  thing?" 
Horace  murmured  this  from  behind  his  ram- 
part. He  was  feeling  that  he  had  caught  the 
only  correct  note  under  these  distressing  cir- 
cumstances.   That  was  the  sort  of  thing  they 

108 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

had  once  known  but  they  had  left  it  far,  far 
behind.  They  were  safe  from  it  now.  His 
sister  stirred  slightly  in  her  trance  of  mortifi- 
cation. The  Comtesse  de  Champigny  rippled 
mirthfully  at  each  demonstration  of  the  droll 
American.  The  latter  was  continuing  to  exer- 
cise his  superb  talent  for  being  offensive  to 
auditors  he  wotted  not  of. 

"Talking  of  things  to  drink,"  he  was  say- 
ing, "you  never  worked  on  a  farm  in  your  own 
country,  did  you,  Doc?" 

Again  a  shadow  flitted  across  the  eyes  of 
Mariano  as  he  listened  to  this  form  of  address, 
but  nothing  in  the  German's  mien  betokened 
that  he  was  unaccustomed  to  it. 

"That  has  been  denied  me,"  he  said. 

"I  expect  so,  but  youVe  missed  something. 
Harvest  time  and  the  women-folks  coming 
from  the  farmhouse  out  over  the  hot  fields  with 
a  two-gallon  jug  of  ice-cold  buttermilk!"  He 
desisted  from  his  ham-and-eggs  for  a  low 
whistle  of  relish. 

109 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

"You  still  enjoy  those  delights?" 

"Not  since  I  moved  up  to  our  county-seat. 
Things  don't  taste  the  same  in  a  city." 

"You  do  not  like  your  city?" 

''Like  it?"  The  tone  was  not  that  of  a  brag- 
gart. It  was  too  simply,  almost  pathetically, 
earnest.  "Well,  sir,  for  public  buildings 
and  architecture  I  wouldn't  trade  our  new 
State  insane  asylum  for  the  best-ruined  ruin 
you've  got  over  here — not  for  hygiene  and 
real  comfort,"  he  added,  as  if  to  soften  this 
blow. 

"And  your  people?" 

"The  best  on  earth!" 

"But  you  have  no  leisure  class." 

The  other  regarded  him  with  whimsical  tol- 
erance. "No  leisure  class?  Say,  Doc,  you 
ought  to  have  a  look  at  our  colored  popula- 
tion." 

"I  mean  no  aristocracy,"  persisted  the  Ger- 
man. One  quick  to  suspect  base  motives 
might  have  thought  him  prankishly  bent  on 

110 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

evoking  gross  declarations  from  the  Amer- 
ican for  the  specific  annoyance  of  those  whom 
he  perceived  to  be  already  vexed  listeners.  "I 
mean,"  he  explained,  "no  great  old  families 
such  as  we  have  that  go  back  and  back  to  the 
Middle  Ages."  His  companion  met  the  in- 
quiry genially. 

"Well,  I  expect  if  they  go  back  that  far 
they  might  just  as  well  sit  down  and  stay  there. 
No,  sir,  that's  one  thing  about  my  country — 
the  poor  don't  have  to  pay  taxes  for  a  lot  of 
useless  kings  and  earls  and  first  grooms  of  the 
bed-chamber  and  second  ladies-in-waiting  and 
I  don't  know  what  all!  If  anybody  wants  our 
money  for  nothing  he  has  to  show  energy 
enough  to  steal  it."  He  beamed  upon  his  ques- 
tioner. "Doc,  I  wonder  a  man  like  you  doesn't 
emigrate." 

"Bravo  1  Bravo!"  cried  the  German  and 
seemed  on  the  verge  of  another  of  those  fits  of 
helpless  laughter  that  had  overcome  him  on 
the  roadside — and  this  even  though  he  must 

111 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

have  noticed  increasing  consternation  among 
the  listening  group.  Horace  was  rapidly  ex- 
plaining to  the  Earl  of  Hawcastle  that  the  fel- 
low was  distinctly  of  the  lower  classes  and 
would  be  cut  by  him,  Horace,  as  summarily 
"in  the  States"  as  here.  And  Lady  Creech 
could  no  longer  contain  herself.  One  might 
ignore  the  better  intended  of  American  gauch- 
eries,  but  this  last  was  sheer  ruffianism. 

"Hawcastle,"  she  demanded  truculently, 
"have  you  a  notion  how  long  these  persons 
mean  to  intrude  upon  our  privacy?  I  had  a 
distinct  impression  that  the  manager  of  the 
hotel  had  reserved  this  terrace  for  our  own 
party."  She  frowned  darkly  upon  Mariano 
who  chose  not  to  observe  it.  Miss  Grangerr 
Simpson  remained  tragic — cataleptic. 

"It  is  somewhat  vexing  not  to  be  allowed  to 
read  one's  paper  in  peace,"  conceded  his  lord- 
ship. And  Horace,  still  artfully  concealing 
a  countenance  that  he  knew  would  be  instantly 
recognized  as  American  by  any  other  of  that 

112 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 


people,  echoed  from  behind  his  TimeSj  "Quite 
beastly  annoying!" 

"Since  you  so  admire  your  country,  my 
friend,  I  wonder  you  make  this  long  journey, 
instead  of  to  spend  your  holiday  at  home." 

"Holiday!  Why,  Doc,  you  won't  believe  it, 
but  I  Ve  never  even  had  time  to  go  see  Niagara 
Falls!" 

"Dreadful  person!"  The  speaker  need  not 
be  named.  Her  tones  carried  well.  The  Grer- 
man  grinned,  but  almost  instantly  became,  or 
seemed  to  become,  deeply  concerned. 

"I  fear  we  have  disturbed  those  good  peo- 
ple." 

The  American  glanced  aside  with  honest 
wonder.  "Doyouthink  they're — ^hintingat  us?" 

"I  really  suspect  it." 

"Well,  I  guess  there  ain't  any  bones  broken." 
He  seemed  disposed  to  regard  the  matter 
lightly.  The  German  remarked,  "Finito!"  to 
Mariano,  disposed  his  napkin  on  the  table  and 
lighted  a  cigarette.    The  American  pushed  his 

lis 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

chair  from  the  table,  folded  his  napkin  with  a 
practised  air  and  lighted  a  cigar.  The  throaty 
murmur  is  from  the  Comtesse  de  Champigny: 
"Mon  Dieu!  But  what  is  it  he  does  with  his 
serviette  ?"  Brother  Horace  now  writhes  in  his 
chair.  "I  can't  stand  this,"  he  mutters.  His 
sister,  stony  as  ever  in  her  humiliation,  is 
nevertheless  valiantly  striving  again  to  recon- 
struct that  delightful  old  Mr.  Pike  who  must 
soon  arrive.  If  only  he  prove  to  be  an  Amer- 
ican of  another  sort  to  wipe  out  the  memory 
of  this  casual  one! 

,  "No,  sir,"  proceeds  the  American  voice  i*!e- 
lentlessly,  "you  wouldn't  catch  me  putting  in 
any  time  around  these  old  kingdoms  if  I 
didn't  have  to." 

''Ah,  you  come  here  for  a  duty  then?"  Still 
the  German  regards  the  attentive  group  with  a 
certain  relish  not  too  well  veiled. 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  that  was 
the  name  of  it — yes  sir,  all  the  way  from  old 
Indiana!"    A  low  cry  of  fear  was   all  but 

114 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

stifled  in  the  throat  of  Miss  Granger- Simpson. 
But  at  once  she  smiled  at  her  fears.  That 
simply  couldn't  be  true.  Yet  they  were  all 
staring  tensely  now  at  the  American.  He  was 
speaking  again.  They  had  both  risen  from 
the  table. 

"I  expect  probably,  Doc,  I  won't  be  able  to 
eat  with  you  this  evening.  You  see,"  he 
paused,  queerly  embarrassed,  "you  see  IVe 
come  a  long  way  to  look  after  her  and  she  prob- 
ably— that  is,  they'll  probably  want  me  to  have 
fiupper  with  them/'  He  had  spoken  the  last 
rather  breathlessly,  though  not  rapidly,  and 
with  a  growing  smile  that  was  like  a  confes- 
sion. 

"Do  not  trouble  for  me,  my  friend.  Seek 
your  people.    I  finish  my  cigarette." 

"I'd  better  inquire  for  them;  they're  at  this 
hotel." 

"I  must  get  away."  This  is  the  voice  of 
Horace  Granger- Simpson,  hoarse  with  appre- 
hension.   The  Times  has   served  him  excel- 

115 


THE  MAN   FROM   HOME 

lently  but  is  now  thrown  aside.  He  stands,  he 
moves  furtively  a  few  steps,  then  briskly 
quickens  his  pace  toward  a  remote  corner  of 
the  garden.  He  has  neared  a  sheltering  hedge 
when  he  hears  a  dreadful  voice. 

"Hey,  there!    Can  you " 

Doggedly  brother  Horace  proceeds,  deaf  to 
this  assault.     It  is  renewed. 

"Excuse  me,  son,  aren't  you  an  American? 
Waiter!" — for  Horace  fled  frankly  now — "tell 
that  gentleman  I'm  speaking  to  him" 

Mariano  placed  himself  in  the  line  of  flight. 
"Monsieur,  that  gentleman  wish  to  speak  with 
you."  Horace  turned  desperately,  yet  ad- 
mirably with  the  air  of  one  who  has  been  af- 
fronted in  a  public  place, 

"What  gentleman?" 

Mariano,  with  his  hands,  shoulders  and  head, 
gracefully  indicated  the  American,  what  time 
the  latter  genially  hailed  once  more. 

"I  thought  from  your  looks  you  must  be  an 
American." 

116 


BOY  AND  0IRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 

Horace  ably  achieved  an  expression  of  the 
profoundest  incredulity. 

''Are  you  speaking  to  me?" 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised,"  returned 
the  impossible  person  with  flawless  good- 
humor.    "Aren't  you  an  American?" 

Horace  made  the  concession  with  a  dignity 
that  would  austerely  preserve  itself  no  matter 
what  foul  blows  were  struck  it.  "I  happen  to 
have  been  bom  in  the  States." 

The  American  flashed  him  a  glance  of  sud- 
den wonder.  "Well,  that  was  luck,  wasn't 
it!" 

Horace  turned  royally  upon  his  heel.  "Will 
you  kindly  excuse  me?" 

"Hold  on  a  minute !"  For  Horace  was  again 
in  action.  "I'm  looking  for  some  Americans 
here,  and  perhaps  you  know  them — a  boy  and 
girl  named  Simpson." 

This  time  a  low  cry  of  fear  was  not  stifled 
in  the  throat  of  Miss  Granger-Simjison.  Hor- 
ace retained  a  sort  of  shuddering  caljm. 

117 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"Do  you  by  any  chance  mean  Granger- 
Simpson?" 

"No,  sir;  just  plain  Simpson.  Granger's 
their  middle  name.  That's  for  old  Jed  Gran- 
ger, grandfather  on  their  mother's  side — old 
*Sour  Apple'  Granger  they  used  to  call  him, 
on  account  of  his " 

The  gesture  of  disrelish  made  by  Horace 
was  so  emphatic  that  it  instantly  dammed  this 
flow  of  reminiscence. 

"All  right,  son,  I  won't  bore  you,  but  I  want 
to  see  this  boy  and  girl,  though  it's  the  girl 
I'm  really  looking  for." 

The  tone  of  Horace  was  now  both  alarmed 
and  truculent.  "Will  you  be  good  enough  to 
state  any  possible  reason  why  Miss  Granger- 
Simpson  should  see  you?" 

"Reason?"  The  American  spoke  in  pro- 
found surprise  and  yet  mildly.  "Why,  yes — 
I'm  her  guardian." 

The  hand  of  Miss  Granger- Simpson  here 
went  to  her  forehead  in  sign  of  dizziness,  ap- 

118 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SIMPSON 


parently.  The  Comtesse  de  Champigny  im- 
mediately put  a  protecting  arm  about  her. 
Brother  Horace,  for  the  moment,  lost  his  man- 
ner. 

"What!"  he  gasped. 

"Yes,  sir;  Daniel  Voorhees  Pike,  attomey- 
at-law,  Kokomo,  Indiana." 

Horace  fell  back  in  honest  horror.  His  sis- 
ter sustained  the  shock  with  a  better  show  of 
stoicism.  Had  she  not  in  her  foresight  been 
nerving  herself  to  it?  She  stared  rigidly  at 
the  man  who  had  thus  announced  himself.  The 
Earl  of  Hawcastle,  intensely  quickened  jet 
cool,  made  an  imperative  gesture  to  Lady 
Creech.  The  latter  swept  majestically  up  to 
Miss  Granger-Simpson,  imprinted  on  her  fore- 
head a  kiss  of  lofty  pity,  and  swept  majestically 
into  the  hotel.  The  Comtesse  de  Champigny 
in  turn  saluted  the  girl  compassionately  on  a 
cheek  and  followed  Lady  Creech.  Her  shrug 
as  she  went  conveyed  much. 

There  had  been  a  sickening  pause  after  the 
119 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

American's  last  speech.  Brother  Horace  now 
broke  it,  his  voice  hoarse  with  shame.  "I'll  ask 
her  if  she  will  consent  to  an  interview." 

The  other  was  frankly  astounded.  "Con- 
sent to  an  interview?  I  want  to  talk  to  her. 
Don't  you  understand?  I'm  her  guardian  and 
I  want  to  talk  to  her.  That's  what  I'm  here 
for."  He  was  laboring  patiently  with  this 
seemingly  dense  American.  The  succeeding 
gesture  of  Horace  was  the  final  flowering  of 
desperation.  As  he  rushed  at  last  to  some 
garden  refuge  he  was  heard  to  mutter,  "I  shall 
never  hold  up  my  head  again !" 

The  American  stared  after  him  in  pained 
wonder,  then  turned  to  his  German  friend  who, 
seemingly  inattentive,  had  lounged  by  the 
balustrade. 

"When  you  have  finished  your  affairs,  my 
friend,  remember  my  poor  car  yonder;  you 
have  promised " 

The  other  flashed  him  a  melancholy  smile. 
"All  right.  Doc.    I'm  kind  of  confused  just 

120 


BOY  AND  GIRL  NAMED  SI3IPSON 

now,  but  I  reckon  I  can  still  put  a  plug  back 
in  a  gear-box." 

At  the  table  his  lordship  the  Earl  of  Haw- 
castle  lingered  for  a  final  cheering  word  to 
the  girl.  "This  shall  make  no  difference  to 
uSj  my  child.  Speak  to  him  at  once."  Fondly 
he  patted  her  shoulder  and  withdrew  as  a  man 
above  petty  notions  of  what  one's  solicitor 
should  be.  The  girl  stood  forward,  rigid,  pale. 
There  before  her,  waving  his  hand  to  the  de- 
parting German,  was  the  actual  truth  about 
that  dear  old  Mr.  Pike  she  had  so  tenderly 
called  into  being.  A  moment  she  stood  in 
appalled  silence — then  haughtily,  yet  with  her 
eyes  cast  down,  with  the  air,  indeed,  of  con- 
fessing a  truth  humiliating  beyond  measure, 
she  addressed  the  back  of  this  stranger. 

"I  am  Miss  Granger-Simpson." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  PRICE  OF  THE  HONORABLE  ALMBRIC 

Daniel  Voorhees  Pike  turned  quickly  to  re- 
gard the  substance  of  what  had  long  been  his 
most  secret  and  familiar  vision.  He  stared  in 
silence  a  moment  at  the  girl  who  drooped  be- 
fore him,  both  tenderness  and  a  great  pride  in 
his  eyes.  Honest  wonder  was  in  his  voice  as  he 
addressed  her. 

"Why,  I  knew  your  father  from  the  time  I 
was  a  little  boy  till  he  died,  and  I  looked  up  to 
him  more  than  I  ever  looked  up  to  anybody  in 
my  life,  but — well,  as  much  as  I  looked  up  to 
him  I  never  thought  he'd  have  a  girl  like  you!" 

The  girl  turned  half  away  from  him  as  if  to 
avoid  the  pain  of  this.  With  a  faulty  instinct 
he  took  a  short  step  toward  her.     With  the 

122 


THE   PRICE 


soft  wonder  still  in  his  voice  he  added,  "He'd 
have  been  mighty  proud  to  see  you  as  you  are 
now." 

The  girl  frankly  recoiled,  yet  controlled  her 
agitation. 

"Perhaps  it  will  be  as  well  if  we  avoid  per- 
sonal allusions."  Her  tone  was  icy,  distant, 
quelling. 

"But  I  don't  see  how  that's  possible."  There 
was  mild  protest  in  this.  The  girl  shivered, 
then  with  a  desperate  effort  to  relieve  a  tension 
that  was  becoming  intolerable  she  looked  about 
her,  stepped  to  a  chair  which  supported  but 
hardly  won  her — she  sat  rigidly  forward — 
and  said,  "Will  you  sit  down,  please?"  She 
must  break  that  fixity  of  his  regard.  The 
young  man  seemed  to  traYisport  himself  from 
an  immense  distance  to  this  spot.  He  drew  a 
long  breath,  gazed  with  shocked  amazement  at 
the  cigar  he  still  held,  discarded  this  quickly 
and  seating  himself  near  the  girl  stared  at  her 
again  with  tenderly  rejoicing  eyes. 

125 


THE  MAN   FROM   HOME 

"As  you  know,"  she  began  tremulously, 
"I — I — "  Her  eyes  had  been  cast  down, 
now  she  raised  them  to  him  with  a  sudden  wor- 
ried impatience.  "Oh,  are  you  really  my 
guardian?" 

Pike  smiled.  "Well,  I've  got  the  papers  in 
my  grip.    Of  course  I  expect " 

"Oh,  I  know  you  must  be.  It  would  have  to 
be  true — it's  only  that  we  didn't  fancy,  we 
didn't  expect " 

"I  expect  you  thought  I'd  be  considerably 
older." 

"Not  only  that " 

He  interrupted  her  gently.  "I  expect  you 
thought  I'd  neglected  you  a  good  deal."  He 
was  remorseful  now.  She  felt  this,  monstrous 
though  it  seemed  to  her.  "And  it  did  look  like 
it,  never  coming  to  see  you.  I  don't  wonder  at 
all  that  you  thought  I  was  neglecting  you.  But 
I  really  couldn't  seem  to  manage  the  time  to 
get  away.  You  see,  being  trustee  of  your 
share  of  the  estate  and  with  my  own  law-prac- 

124 


THE   PRICE 


tice  I've  been  kept  pretty  busy  back  there.  But 
when  I  got  your  letter  two  weeks  ago  I  says 
to  myself,  *Here,  D.  V.  Pike,  you  old  shell- 
back, you've  just  got  to  take  the  time.  John 
Simpson  trusted  you  with  his  property  and 
he  did  more:  he  trusted  you  to  look  out 
for  her^  and  now  she's  come  to  a  kind  of  a 
jumping-off  place  in  her  life — she's  thinking 
of  getting  married,  so  you  just  pack  your 
grip  and  hike  out  over  there  and  stand 
fcz/her!" 

The  girl  had  become  frigid  again  under  this 
outburst  of  almost  fatherly  affection.  She 
threw  her  head  back  again  to  quell  him.  "I 
quite  fail  to  understand  your  point  of  view. 
Perhaps  I  can  best  make  my  own  view  clear  to 
you  by  saying  at  once  that  I  am  no  longer 
thinking  of  getting  married." 

Pike  evinced  a  pleased  astonishment  at  this, 
and  relaxed  in  his  own  chair.  **Well,  for  the 
Lord's  sake!"  The  girl  continued  with  deadly 
succinctness. 

125 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"I  mean  I  have  decided  upon  it.  The  cere- 
mony will  take  place  within  a  fortnight." 

"Well,  now,  I  declare!"  He  sat  forward 
again  in  his  chair,  regarding  her  with  sympa- 
thetic concern. 

"We  shall  dispense  with  all  delays."  She 
would  leave  no  excuse  for  him  to  misunder- 
stand. 

He  replied  slowly,  a  little  sadly,  perhaps, 
"Well,  I  don't  know  as  I  could  rightly  say  any- 
thing against  that.  He  must  be  a  mighty  nice 
fellow^  and  you  must  think  a  heap  of  him.  Of 
course,  that's  the  way  it  should  be."  It  might 
have  been  thought  that  he  here  suppressed  a 
sigh,  but  he  smiled  again  and  leaned  toward  her 
in  his  friendly  way.  "And  you're  happy,  are 
you?" 

Miss  Ethel  Simpson's  attitude  had  relaxed 
slightly  from  the  perpendicular.  Now  it  was 
instantly  restored  and  she  uttered  one  word 
with  the  coldest  emphasis, 

"Distinctly." 

126 


THE   PRICE 


Pike's  expression  became  slightly  puzzled. 
It  was  perhaps  more  the  expression  of  an  at- 
tomey-at-law  than  of  a  solicitous  guardian. 
He  passed  a  long,  lean,  freckled  hand  over  his 
noticeable  chin  and  studied  her  keenly.  Then 
his  glance  went  to  the  spot  of  his  recent  en- 
counter with  a  certain  visibly  offended  young 
American.  He  started  as  if  shocked  by  a  sud- 
den fear. 

"Say — it  isn't  that  young  fellow  I  was 
talking  to  yonder?  He  said  he  was  an  Ameri- 
can. 

The  girl  eyed  him  in  quick  indignation. 
''That  was  my  brother !"  ^ 

The  other  spoke  with  obvious  relief  and  not 
a  little  embarrassment. 

"Well,  for  the  Lord's  sake!  But  naturally 
I  wouldn't  remember  him.  He  couldn't  have 
been  more  than  twelve  years  old  the  last  time 
I  saw  him.    Of  course  I'd  have  known  you'* 

"You  haven't  seen  me,  either,  since  I  was  a 
child."    The  retort  was  acid  of  quality. 

127 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"Oh,  I'd  have  known  you  from  your  picture, 
though  of  course  you've  improved  a  lot  since 
that  was  taken." 

She  saw  again  the  look  of  enthusiastic  ap- 
praisal which  had  already  overwhelmed  her 
with  embarrassment. 

''You — ^have  a  photograph  of  me?" 

**The  last  time  I  saw  your  father  alive  he 
jgave  me  one." 

She  frowned  at  this.    ''Gave  it  to  you?" 

"Gave  it  to  me  to — ^to  look  at,  to  keep. 
And  I've  kept  it — looked  at  it  a  good  deal  of 
course  at  odd  moments — naturally." 

In  some  obscure  way  she  found  herself  in 
discomfort  at  this  artless  avowal. 

"I  think  we  may  dismiss  the  subject,"  she 
announced  very  crisply. 

Pike  again  seemed  to  recall  himself  from  an 
immense  distance. 

"Well,  if  you'd  like  to  introduce  me  to 
your — "  He  laughed  rather  feebly,  hesitat- 
ing— "to  your — " 

128 


THE   PRICE 


"To  my  brother?" 

"No,  not  to  him.  I  mean  to  your — to  the 
young  man." 

"To  Mr.  St.  Aubyn?  I  think  that  quite  un- 
necessary." This  was  coolly  final,  so  that  she 
was  shocked  anew  at  his  reply,  though  he  pre- 
faced this  with  an  apologetic  laugh. 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  see  it  just  that  way.  I'll 
have  to  have  a  couple  of  talks  with  him — 
sort  of  look  him  over,  so  to  speak.  But  I  won't 
stay  around  here  spoiling  your  fun  any  longer 
than  I  can  help.  Only  just  for  that  and  to  get 
a  letter  I'm  expecting  here  from  England. 
Don't  be  afraid.  Everything  will  be  all  right." 

It  was  indeed  being  as  bad  as  she  had  feared. 
Her  lip  began  to  tremble.  "I  don't  see  that 
you  need  have  come  at  all.  Why  did  we  ever 
send  for  you?  We  could  have  been  spared  this 
mortification." 

The  other  was  rudely  shocked  in  his  turn. 
"You  mean  I  mortify  you.  Why,  I — I 
can't  see  how." 

129 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"Oh,  dear,  I  know  you  can't — ^but  in  a 
hundred  ways  I  couldn't  make  you  understand. 
My  friends  are  different  from  any  people  you 
could  know — and  you  could  have  written 
your  consent." 

"Not  without  seeing  the  young  man  first 
— or  knowing  all  about  him."  The  speaker 
was  mild  but  insistent. 

The  girl  continued,  unheeding.  "And  you 
could  have  arranged  the  settlement  in  the  same 
way — it  could  have  been  done  by  mail." 

Pike  smiled  rather  grimly.  "You  seem  to 
have  settled  it  pretty  well  without  me,  any- 
way." 

"You  don't  understand.  An  alliance  of  this 
sort  always  entails  a  certain  settlement."  Sho 
was  almost  kindly  now  in  her  impatience. 
Yet  she  had  apparently  not  enlightened 
him. 

"An  alliance,  eh?  And  that's  what  they  call 
getting  married  over  here  ?  And  a  settlement  ? 
Well,  I  know  of  course  that  when  folks  get 

ISO 


THE   PRICE 


married  they  generally  settle  down,  more  or 
less." 

The  girl  was  still  rather  kindly  in  her  effort 
to  illumine  this  darkness.  "Please  listen.  If 
you  wxre  at  all  a  man  of  the  world  I  shouldn't 
have  to  explain  that  in  marrying  into  a  noble 
family  I  bring  my  dot — my  dowry " 

The  young  attorney  from  Kokomo  had 
translated  the  tiny  French  word  most  unhap- 
pily. "Your — your  dough?  Money,  you 
mean?" 

She  repressed  a  shudder.  "If  you  choose  to 
put  it  that  way." 

"Oh,  I  see."  He  smiled  in  relief  once  more 
at  the  ease  of  this.  "You  mean  you  want  to 
put  aside  something  of  j^our  own  to  buy  a  lot 
and  fix  up  a  place  to  start  housekeeping " 

"No,  no!"  Again  the  lip  trembled  with 
chagrin  almost  tearful.  "I  mean  a  settlement 
upon  Mr.  St.  Aubyn  directly." 

"You  mean  you  want  to  give  it  to  him?" 

"If  that's  the  only  way  to  make  you  under- 

151 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

stand — yes!"  This,  beyond  question,  was 
snappish.    The  word  is  not  too  strong. 

"Well,  how  much  do  you  want  to  give  him?" 
The  inquiry  was  put  almost  with  amusement. 

"A  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds." 
She  uttered  the  words  lightly,  jauntily,  with 
none  of  that  awe  for  money  in  the  mass  which 
Americans  are  said  to  feel. 

Pike  flinched,  then  stared  incredulously. 
"Seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars?" 

"Precisely  that!" 

She  had  aroused  him,  she  saw.  Until  now  he 
had  been  treating  her  too  much  like  a  fanciful 
child.    He  answered  in  profound  amazement. 

"Well,  he  has  made  you  care  for  him.  I 
guess  he  must  be  the  Prince  of  the  World,  my 
dear.  He  must  be  a  great  man !  I  expect  you 
were  right  about  me  not  meeting  him.  I  sure- 
ly wouldn't  show  up  very  well  beside  a  man 
that's  big  enough  for  you  to  think  that  much 
of.  I  didn't  dream  he  was  as  big  as  that — 
a  cabinet  minister  or  something."    He  paused 

132 


THE   PRICE 


to  smile  in  calculation.     "Why,  I'd  have  to 
squeeze  every  bit  of  property  your  father  left." 

"Is  it  your  property?"  Again  she  was  dis- 
tinctly snappish. 

"No;  I've  taken  pretty  good  care  of  it  for 
you,  though." 

Impulsively  the  girl  half  arose  from  her 
chair,  extending  a  hand  toward  him.  "Forgive 
me  for  saying  that  I" 

He  brushed  her  contrition  aside  with  a  mut- 
tered "Pshaw!"     The  girl  continued  rapidly. 

"It  was  imworthy  of  me,  unworthy  of  the 
higher  and  nobler  things  that  this  new  life 
will  call  me  to  live  up  to — that  I  shall  live  up 
to!  The  money  means  nothing  to  me — I'm 
not  thinking  of  that." 

Again  he  keenly  studied  the  ardent  young 
face,  debating  the  form  of  a  new  approach  to 
this  surprising  matter. 

"Have  you  talked  with  Mr.  St.  Aubyn  about 
this — this  settlement,  this  present  you  want 
to  make  him." 

188 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

She  nobly  ignored  the  American  crudeness 
of  this,  to  answer  clearly. 

*'No,  of  course,  not  with  himf* 

Pike  was  now  cheerfully  enlivened.  "Well 
— I  thought  not.  But  you'll  see — ^he  wouldn't 
take  it  if  I'd  let  you  give  it  to  him.  A 
fine  big  man  like  that  wants  to  make  his  own 
way,  of  course.  Mighty  few  men  like  to  have 
fun  poked  at  them  about  living  on  their  wives' 
money." 

"Oh,  I  can't  make  you  understand — "  She 
was  despairing  again,  but  rallied  the  few 
words  she  felt  were  needed.  "A  settlement  is 
not  a  gift!" 

Again  he  maddened  her  by  that  air  of  hu- 
moring a  child. 

"By  the  way,  how  did  you  happen  to  decide 
that  exactly  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
pounds  was  what  you  wanted  to  give  him? 
Seems  to  me  if  you  had  decided  on  that  sum, 
yourself,  you'd  have  said  it  in  dollars.  Who 
did  decide  it?" 

134 


THE   PRICE 


"It  was  Mr.  St.  Aubyn's  father  who  fixed  the 
amount." 

"His  father?  What's  his  father  got  to  do 
with  it?" 

"He  is  the  Earl  of  Hawcastle,  the  head  of 
the  ancient  house." 

"And  he  asks  you  for  your  property — asks 
you  in  so  many  words?" 

His  honest  increduUty  enraged  the  girl. 
Openly  she  glared  at  him. 

"As  a  settlementr 

"And  your  young  man  knows  it?"  demand- 
ed the  aghast  Mr.  Pike. 

"I  tell  you  I  have  not  discussed  the  matter 
with  Mr.  St.  Aubyn." 

Once  more  the  attorney  brightened  with  a 
genial  comprehension. 

"I  should  say  not!  Well,  sir,  do  you  know 
what's  the  first  thing  this  Mr.  St.  Aubyn  will 
do  when  he  finds  out  his  father  has  made  such 
a  proposition  to  you?  Why,  he'll  take  the  old 
man  out  in  the  back  lot  and  give  him  a  thrash- 

1S5 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

ing  he  won't  forget  to  the  day  of  his  death.  I 
tell  you,  he'll  simply " 

But  his  heated  description  of  this  act  of 
retributive  justice  was  broken  off  by  a  shot 
sounding  from  below  the  cliff,  followed  by  a 
roll  of  drums  and  the  call  of  a  bugle.  They 
both  turned  to  regard  Mariano  and  Michele 
who  ran  from  the  hotel  to  peer  over  the  balus- 
trade. Mariano  turned  at  a  word  from  the  girl. 

"That  bandit  of  Russia,  mademoiselle! 
Those  soldiers  think  he  hide  in  a  grotto  under 
the  cliff." 

As  the  pair  still  pondered  this  announce- 
ment the  scene  was  enlivened  by  the  dashing 
entrance  of  the  Honorable  Almeric.  Like  a 
true  descendant  of  the  fighting  men  of  old  he 
flourished  a  shot-gun  as  he  ran  to  join  the  ab- 
sorbed Mariano  and  Michele. 

"Oh,  I  say,  fair  sport,  by  Jove.  Fair 
sport!  Think  I'll  have  a  chance  to  pot  the 
beggar,  Mariano?" 

Mariano  appeared  to  regret  that  the  shoot- 
1S6 


THE   PRICE 


ing  privileges  of  an  otherwise  admirable  hotel 
were  curtailed  by  the  State.  "I  fear  not,  sig- 
nore.  There  are  two  companies  of  carabiniere 
who  will  doubtless  make — ^make  the  pot  of 
him." 

It  should  be  said  that  Miss  Simpson  had 
looked  steadily  away  from  her  illustrious  fiance 
after  one  hasty  glance.  It  is  possible  that  at 
this  moment  his  speech  was  causing  her  a  cer- 
tain discomfort  she  would  queerly  not  have 
cared  to  define  to  herself.  Mr.  Pike,  of  Ko- 
komo,  on  the  other  hand,  had  stared  frankly  at 
the  young  Englishman  and  glad  rejoicing 
welled  in  his  eyes.  He  turned  to  the  girl.  His 
little  chuckling  laugh  had  already  filled  her 
with  consternation. 

"I  saw  him  back  on  the  road  this  morning 
— What's  he  meant  for?" 

Miss  Simpson  called  to  her  fiance  with  what 
might  have  been  thought  a  trace  of  anger  in 
one  less  earnestly  striving  for  the  nobler  things 
of  life. 

187 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"Almericr' 

He  turned  reluctantly  and  approached  them. 

"Hallo!"  The  greeting'  was  vivacious. 
The  Honorable  Almeric  was  still  flushed  with 
the  joys  of  the  chase. 

"I  wish,"  said  Miss  Simpson  with  cold  dig- 
nity, "to  present  my  guardian."  She  turned 
superbly  to  Pike.    ''This  is  Mr.  St.  Aubyn." 

Mr.  Pike  froze  to  a  statue  of  staring  unbe- 
lief, a  statue  with  its  lower  jaw  dropped.  The 
blunt  truth  should  be  told:  he  was  behaving 
uncouthly.  The  Honorable  Almeric  presented 
a  gratifying  contrast  of  an  affable  and  finished 
man  of  the  world. 

"Hallo,  though.  Why,  it's  the  donkey-man, 
isn't  it?  How  very  odd!  But  he'll  have  to  see 
the  Governor  and  our  solicitor  about  the  settle- 
ment and  that  sort  of  thing.  I've  important 
business  on  here.  The  police  are  chasing  a 
bally  convict  chap  under  the  cliff  yonder,  so 
you'll  have  to  excuse  me — I  must  be  toddlin'. 
Nothing  like  a  bit  of  convict  shootin'  to  break 

138 


THE   PRICE 


the  monotony,  what !"  He  quickly  re  j  oined  the 
waiters  at  the  terrace  wall. 

Pike  very  slowly  turned  upon  the  girl  a  face 
of  horror.  She  did  not  meet  his  look,  her  eyes 
being  stubbornly  fixed  upon  a  remote  hillside. 
There  came  again  the  cheerful  shout  of  the 
Honorable  Almeric. 

"I  say,  wait  for  me,  you  fellows — don't  hurt 
him  till  I  get  there!" 

Miss  Simpson  may  have  winced,  but  her  far- 
fixed  gaze  did  not  waver.  Not  at  least  for  the 
first  moment.  Then  slowly  she  felt  herself  im- 
pelled to  turn.  Patently  against  her  own  will 
she  looked  upon  that  rigid  mask  of  dismay,  her 
breath  quickening,  her  cheeks  flaming. 

Pike  seemed  to  shake  off  the  obsession.  His 
eyes  blazed  upon  the  girl  and  one  arm  raised 
to  point  a  deadly  finger  toward  the  latest  of 
the  St.  Aubyns.  He  began  with  a  slow  in- 
tensity. 

"Seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars 
for — "      He  had  broken  down  under  the  stu- 

139 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

pendous  incredibility  of  it.  Again  he  shook  the 
thing  off  and  brightened.  "Say — ^how  muck 
do  they  charge  over  here  for  a  real  man?" 

Miss  Simpson  covered  her  flaming  cheeks 
with  her  hands. 

"Oh,  you  are  awful — awful!"  she  piteous- 
ly  muttered,  and  fled.  She  left  the  man  in- 
credulous, dumbfounded,  frozen  anew  with 
horror. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ME.  PIKE  SINGS  AT  HIS  WORK 

Two  hours  later,  in  the  cool  green  seclusion 
of  the  hotel's  rear  garden,  Daniel  Voorhees 
Pike  toiled  hotly  at  a  disabled  motor-car.  The 
floor-boards  of  the  car  had  been  removed,  its 
apron  lifted.  Mr.  Pike  had  donned  the  long 
blouse  of  the  late  chauffeur  Which  made  a 
little  for  the  suggestion,  as  he  bent  above  an 
open  tool  bag,  of  a  surgeon  about  to  operate. 
Now  he  selects  an  instrument  and  probes  the 
more  intimate  mysteries  of  his  patient.  He 
seems  to  be  wholly  absorbed  in  this  delicate 
feat  for  his  whistle  is  obviously  no  more  than 
casual,  absent-minded  diversion.  He  even 
sings  softly  from  time  to  time  parts  of  the 
ballad    that    seems    to    wander    at    random 

141 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

through   his   memory — "The    Blue    and    the 
Gray"  we  gather  it  to  be. 

He  appears,  as  we  have  said,  to  be  entirely 
devoted  to  his  task.  He  frowns  whole-heart- 
edly as  he  probes  or  tugs  with  his  wrench  at  a 
stubborn  bolt.  He  frowns  as  he  whistles, 
even  as  he  words  the  tender  refrain,  "One  lies 
down  in  Appomattox."  So  intense  is  his  con- 
centration we  know  he  would  be  quite  unable 
to  name  his  ballad  were  he  suddenly  asked  to 
do  so.  Not  for  him  the  distant  green  slopes 
of  vineyard  and  olive  orchard  leading  up  the 
mountain-side  to  one  of  those  ruins  he  has  so 
lately  disparaged.  Nor  for  him  the  ancient 
stone  wall  at  his  back,  with  its  crest  of  vines  in 
autumn  tints  hanging  from  it  in  profusion. 
Nor  for  him  the  white-columned  pergola  with 
its  awning  of  yellow-fruited  lemon  branches 
beside  which  the  wounded  car  has  been  brought 
to  rest.  He  is,  indeed,  so  entirely  the  absorbed 
mechanician  that  one  with  difficulty  believes 
he   has    just    survived   the   most   prodigious 

142 


MR.    PIKE   SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

shock  of  his  career,  though  perhaps  he  pur- 
posely seeks  distraction  in  this  labor  while  cer- 
tain events  assume  their  rightful  perspective 
in  his  disturbed  mind.  The  near-by  wing  of 
the  hotel  has  closed  its  eyes  to  him,  the  awn- 
ings of  its  windows  being  lowered  as  if  the 
sight  of  this  weird  American  must  be  reso- 
lutely shut  out. 

The  probing,  tapping,  wrenching  work  pro- 
ceeded, always  with  its  absent  low  accompani- 
ment, now  the  meditative  whistle,  now  a  softly 
sung  line  or  two  of  the  affecting  ballad.  So 
intensely  applied  was  the  toiler  to  his  task,  that 
the  brusque  entrance  of  brother  Horace  went 
unnoted.  At  least  Mr.  Pike  seemed  not  to 
note  it.  The  music  continued,  the  time  being 
now  cleverly  marked  by  the  impact  of  a 
hanuner  upon  metal ;  the  eyes  of  the  worker  did 
not  waver  from  his  task. 

Brother  Horace  had  invaded  the  place  by 
means  of  the  stout  gate  set  in  the  vine-ruffled 
wall.     He  pushed  it  open,  he  pushed  it  shut 

143 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

behind  him,  with  rude,  ahnost  explosive  move- 
ments.  He  advanced  swiftly  to  the  unseeing 
worker  and  glowered  upon  him.  The  worker 
remained  oblivious  to  this  menace,  though  per- 
haps "The  Blue  and  the  Gray"  progressed 
with  a  sUght  increase  in  vivacity.  Although 
heated  to  the  point  of  rosiest  flesh  tints, 
Horace  controlled  himself  to  speak  with  an  ex- 
cellent effect  of  politeness.  Something  un- 
ruffled in  the  demeanor  of  the  man  working 
there  had  daunted  him  to  a  quick  suspicion 
that  he  was  not  going  to  prevail  in  this  matter 
by  mere  browbeating. 

"Mr.  Pike!"  Indeed  he  spoke  almost 
urbanely. 

Mr.  Pike  hammered  at  a  bolt-head  with  a 
monkey-wrench  and  continued  his  melodic 
self-communion;  " — One  wore  clothes  of 
gray — "  he  softly  sang. 

"Mr.  Pike  I  Mr.  Pike,  I  wish  a  word  with 
you." 

The  other  now  looked  up  mildly,  abruptly 

144 


MR.    PIKE   SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

discontinued  the  music  to  remark  "Hu-um!" 
in  a  peculiarly  dry  tone  and  moved  to  the  other 
side  of  the  engine  where  he  rubbed  the  handle 
of  the  monkey-wrench  across  his  chin  as  if 
puzzled,  frowning  with  deep  attention  into  the 
machine's  interior.  At  this  Horace  glowered 
again.  It  was  not  the  sort  of  impertinence  he 
had  expected,  even  from  an  American.  He 
spoke  again,  sharply  now. 

"Mr.  Pike,  I  wish  to  tell  you  that  the  sur- 
prise of  this  morning  so  upset  me  that 
I  went  for  a  long  walk.  I  have  just  re- 
turned." 

However  inconclusive  this  sounded,  Horace 
had  plainly  meant  it  to  convey  matter  for  deep 
thought. 

"One  lies  down  at  Appomattox — "  sang 
Mr.  Pike  in  a  voice  never  meant  for  this  diffi- 
cult art.  His  lips  shaped  themselves  to  whistle 
the  remainder  of  the  verse.  Horace  dashed 
in  upon  this  silent  second. 

"I  wish  to  tell  you  that  I  have  been  eren 

145 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

more  upset  by  what  I  have  just  learned  from 
my  sister." 

Mr.  Pike  forebore  to  whistle.  "Now,  that's 
too  bad,"  he  condoled,  yet  without  any  deep 
conviction  of  sympathy.  His  mind  seemed  still 
to  be  upon  his  task.  His  face  brightened  as  he 
discovered  a  loose  valve  fitting  and  he  tight- 
ened this  with  a  look  of  triumph. 

"It  is  too  bad — absurdly — monstrously 
bad."  Horace  was  now  fretting  openly.  "She 
tells  me  that  after  she  had  recovered  from  the 
shock  of  your  first  meeting  her  she  did  you  the 
honor  to  present  you  to  the  family  with  which 
we  are  forming  an  alliance — to  the  Earl  of 
Hawcastle,  her  fiance's  father " 

The  other  had  continued  his  work  with 
cheerful  absent-mindedness,  but  now  he 
admitted,  "She  did,  she  did,"  and  whistled 
softly  again. 

"To  her  fiance's  aunt.  Lady  Creech " 

"Yes,  sir,  to  the  whole  possetucky  of  them." 
Abruptly  the  speaker  burst  into  song  attack- 

146 


3/JB.    PIKE   SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

ing  this  time  another  number  in  his  repertoire. 
"  *She  was  my  hanky-panky-danky  from  the 
town  of  Kalamazack — '  Yes,  sir,  to  that 
French  lady,  too."  Followed  quickly  a  line 
from  the  new  song,  after  a  quick,  keen  glance 
at  Horace.  "  *She  ran  away  with  a  circus 
clown,  she  never  did  come  back — '  "  Again  he 
hammered  the  bolt-head. 

"And  she  introduced  you  to  her  fiance — to 
Mr.  St.  Aubyn  himself."  Horace  conveyed 
that  this  would  be  the  cap-stone  in  that  arch  of 
social  favors,  and  INIr.  Pike  himself  seemed  to 
regard  it  as  noteworthy.  He  chuckled  delight- 
edly. 

''Yes,  sir!  Jolly  sort,  zWi  he?  We  talked  a 
bit  about  big-game  shooting  in  Indiana.  He 
wants  to  come  out  some  day  and  he  asked  me 
what  our  best  game  was.  I  told  him  that  in 
the  mountains  down  around  Peiii,  Indiana, 
we  still  had  some  Incas  preserved.  He  said  he 
had  always  supposed  that  Peru  was  a  state  by 
itself,  not  simply  a  place  in  Indiana,  but  that 

147 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

he  would  jolly  well  like  to  get  a  good  Inca 
head  to  put  up  in  the  gun-room  at  home.  He 
ought  to  get  one,  oughtn't  he?"  Mr.  Pike 
here  seized  the  wrench  and  hent  over  the  en- 
gine as  if  the  interview  were  closed.  Horace 
would  not  have  it  so. 

"My  sister  tells  me,"  he  insisted  indig- 
nantly, "that  in  spite  of  Lord  Hawcastle's  most 
graciously  offering  to  discuss  her  engagement 
with  you,  you  bluntly  refused.  Furthermore 
you  threaten  that  you  will  simply  decline  to 
go  into  the  matter  with  Lord  Hawcastle's  so- 
licitor when  he  arrives." 

"What  matter?"  Pike  asked  the  question 
though  he  seemed  already  to  know. 

"The  matter  of  the  settlement!"  It  may  be 
said  that  Horace  exploded  this. 

"I  haven't  been  entirely  asleep  since  I've 
been  here,  son,  and  from  one  thing  and  an- 
other, perhaps  a  word  or  two  your  sister  let 
drop,  it  sort  of  strikes  me  that  you  think  a 
good  deal  of  this  French  widow-lady  that's 

148 


MR,    PIKE   SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

with  these  people.  Now  suppose  you  make 
up  your  mind  to  take  her  for  better  or  worse — 
what's  she  going  to  give  you?" 

**NothingI  What  do  you  meanl"  Horace 
really  roared.    Pike  continued  mild. 

**Well,  I  thought  you'd  probably  charge 
iier — ^well,  a  Uttlej  anyhow.  Ain't  that  the 
way  over  here  when  folks  *form  an  alliance'?" 

A  moment  brother  Horace  raged  in  silence 
but  could  contain  himself  no  longer  when  the 
other  grasped  his  monkey-wrench  and  burst 
vigorously  into  "Dolly  Gray." 

"It's  impossible  for  you  to  understand  the 
motives  of  my  sister  and  myself  in  our 
struggle  not  to  remain  in  the  vulgar  herd. 
But,  really,  can't  you  try  to  comprehend  that 
there  is  an  old-world  society,  based  not  on 
wealth  but  on  that  indescribable  something 
that  comes  of  ancient  lineage  and  high  birth?" 
Horace  finished  on  a  plaintive  note.  "You 
presume  to  interfere  between  us  and  the  fine 
flower  of  Europe." 

14« 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

Pike  straightened  up  from  his  engine  and 
spoke  with  less  levity  than  had  marred  his 
previous  utterances.  "Well,  I  don't  know  as 
the  folks  around  Kokomo  would  ever  have 
spoken  of  your  father  as  a  'fine  flower,'  still 
he  was  thought  a  heap  of  and  when  he  married 
your  mother — well,  I  never  heard  yet  that  he 
asked  for  any  'settlement'  with  her.  I'll  bet 
he  was  glad  enough  to  get  just  her  alone — 
even  if  she  didn't  bring  him  a  cent." 

"You  are  quite  impossible!"  Horace  meant 
every  word  of  this.  He  put  great  feeling  into 
the  simple  speech. 

"  *Good-bye,  Dolly,  I  must  leave  you,' " 
sang  Pike. 

"There  is  no  profit  in  continuing  this  dis- 
cussion," added  Horace  with  perhaps  more 
acuteness  than  he  had  yet  displayed. 

Tap — tap — tap  sounded  the  hammer  of 
Pike  in  time  to  his  lyric. 

Horace  turned  loftily  upon  his  heel, 
thought   better    of    it    and    again    faced   the 

150 


MR.    PIKE    SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

worker.  "And  I  give  you  fair  warning  now 
we  shall  act  without  paying  the  slightest  heed 
to  you."  He  glowed  triumphantly  at  this. 
"What  have  you  to  say  to  that,  sir?" 

Mr.  Pike,  apparently,  had  nothing  to  say 
yet,  perhaps  in  the  exigencies  of  his  labor,  a 
quick  pressure,  twice  repeated,  was  put  upon 
the  horn  of  the  automobile.  Accordingly 
then,  to  Horace's  speech  of  defiance  the  crude 
retort  (as  common  usage  has  it  spelled)  was 
"Honk!  Honk!"  a  brazen  mockery  of  a  retort 
that  echoed  powerfully  in  the  quiet  garden  and 
caused  Horace  to  thrust  upward  his  despair- 
ing hands. 

"  *Gk)od-bye,  Dolly,  I  must  leave  you — '  '* 
sang  the  absorbed  Pike. 

Horace  turned  and  went  slowly  toward  the 
botel.  His  walk  was  indecisive,  spasmodic. 
Thrice  he  paused  and  seemed  to  debate 
whether  he  would  not  return  and  finally  blast 
the  fellow.  Apparently  he  was  deterred  from 
this  violence  by  the  sight  of  the  fellow's  com- 

151 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

panion  who  now  strolled  from  the  hotel  and 
stood  to  regard  his  harried  car  with  a  lively 
interest.  He  seemed  not  to  see  Horace,  nor 
did  Horace  seem  to  see  the  German,  after  one 
glance  that  was  meant  to  be  withering.  The 
glance  was  managed  with  perhaps  less  than 
the  usual  finesse  of  Horace  in  these  matters, 
owing  to  his  recent  agitation.  He  presented  a 
dignified  back  to  the  occupants  of  the  garden 
as  he  stalked  into  the  hotel.  The  German,  not 
wotting  that  he  had  been  withered,  strolled 
idly  to  the  field  of  labor. 

"You  make  progress,  my  friend?" 
Pike  raised  from  his  work,  stroked  his  chin 
meditatively  with  the  handle  of  the  monkey- 
wrench  and  spoke  earnestly. 

"Doc,  your  machine  is  like  a  good  many 
people.  It's  got  sand  in  its  gear  box — "  He 
broke  off  to  regard  the  flustered  Mariano  who 
now  sped  from  the  hotel  to  the  gate  in  the 
stone  wall  and  noisily  locked  it.  "Hello,  that 
waiter's   gone   crazy   again!"    he   concluded. 

152 


MR.    PIKE   SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

This  was  quite  unjust,  as  Mariano  was  merely 
excited.  He  now  approached  the  German, 
triumphantly  flourishing  the  large  key  to  the 
gate. 

"You  lock  us  in  then?" 

"But,  no,  Herr  von  Grollerhagen — I  lock 
someone  outJ'  Mariano  here  laid  a  finger 
along  his  nose  to  convey  that  he  was  a 
strategist  of  tremendous  cunning.  "I  lock  out 
that  bandid  who  have  not  been  captured.  The 
carabiniere  warn  us  to  close  all  gates  for  one 
hour.  They  will  soon  have  that  wicked  one — 
there  are  two  companies  of  them."  He 
lowered  his  voice  to  add,  "Monsieur  Ribiere 
has  much  fears." 

"Monsieur  Ribiere  is  sometimes  a  fool," 
responded  the  German. 

"But,  Monseigneur,  this  convict  is  a  Rus- 
sian," he  persisted  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 
The  German  waved  him  somewhat  curtly 
away.  Mariano  shook  his  head  ominously  as 
he  went. 

158 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

Pike  grinned  after  him.  "Two  companies 
of  soldiers!  A  town  marshall  out  my  way; 
would  have  had  him  yesterday." 

The  German  appeared  to  consider  this 
alleged  superiority  but  briefly. 

"My  friend,"  he  remarked,  "you  are  teaching 
tne  to  respect  your  country  not  by  what  you 
brag  but  by  what  you  do." 

"How's  that?" 

The  other's  manner  became  significant,  "I 
see  how  a  son  of  that  great  democracy  can 
apply  himself  to  a  dirty  machine  while  his  eyes 
are  full  of  visions  of  one  of  its  most  beautiful 
daughters." 

Pike's  face  fell  to  the  engine  and  he  peered 
a  moment  into  its  depths  before  he  remarked, 
"Doc,  there's  sand  in  your  gear-box !" 

"So!"  laughed  the  German. 

"Yes!  And  now  you  go  down  to  the 
kitchen  and  make  signs  for  some  of  the  help  t« 
give  you  a  nice  clean  bunch  of  rags." 

"What  is  it  you  ask  me  to  do?"   One  might 

15^ 


MR.    PIKE   SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

have  thought  the  German  had  been  surprised 
into  hauteur. 

"I  need  some  more  rags,"  said  the  uncon- 
scious Pike — "quick,  now." 

The  other  favored  him  with  a  low,  mocking 
bow,  the  full  beard  seeming  to  glow  from  the 
vast  smile  beneath  it.  "My  friend,  I  obey." 
He  turned  toward  the  hotel. 

"I  won't  leave  the  machine — it  might  not  be 
safe,"  caUed  Pike. 

The  German  halted.  "You  fear  this 
famous  bandit  would  steal  it?" 

"No;  but  there's  parties  around  here  might 
think  it  was  a  settlement." 

"I  do  not  understand." 

"We're  both  in  the  same  fix,  but  get  those 
rags  just  the  same." 

"At  once,  signore,"  answered  the  other  in 
Mariano's  best  manner,  and  vanished  within 
the  hotel..  Alone  once  more,  Pike  left  the 
engine  and  applied  himself  to  the  gear-box. 
He  worked  more  slowly  now  and  sang  a  song 

155 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

of  slower  tempo.  "  'Oh,  Genevieve,  sweet 
Genevieve  .  .  .' "  drawled  the  voice,  but  the 
song  died  at  the  sound  of  a  distant  shot.  Pike 
looked  up  at  this  and,  listening  intently,  heard 
someone  cautiously  fumble  at  the  lock  of  the 
gate  behind  him.  The  fumbling  was  brief. 
Pike,  after  a  pause,  again  fell  to  work,  but  the 
song  was  resumed  very  softly.  Above  it  he 
seemed  still  to  listen. 

Over  the  stone  wall  now  appeared  the  head 
of  a  man  who  climbed  cautiously  from  the  lane 
below.  His  shoulders  followed.  He  crept 
from  the  wall  to  the  top  of  the  pergola  above 
the  car  and  quickly  but  stealthily  along  this  to 
where  he  could  survey  Pike  through  the 
foliage  of  the  lemon  tree. 

Pike  looked  up  slowly  and  as  slowly 
stopped  his  song,  his  voice  fading  out  on  a 
half-syllable  as  he  encountered  the  new- 
comer's alarmed  gaze.  The  latter  spoke 
quickly  but  in  a  tongue  that  left  Mr.  Pike  un- 
informed. 

156 


T^IR.    PIKE   SINGS   AT  HIS    WORK 

"Ah,  monsieur,  si  vous  etiez  un  homme  de 

bon  coeur!  Je  ne  suis  pas  coupable "    The 

tones  were  strained,  feeble,  panting. 

"There  ain't  any  use  in  the  world  your  talk- 
ing to  me  like  that,"  broke  in  Pike  quickly. 

"Ah,  you  are  an  Englishman?"  panted  the 
other. 

Pike  arose  at  this  and  stepped  back. 
"That'll  be  about  all  of  that.  .You  come  right 
down  from  there!" 

The  newcomer's  voice  lifted,  almost 
cracked,  with  a  sudden  hope.  "An  Ameri- 
can T 

"They  haven't  made  me  anything  else  yet." 

The  other  swung  himself  quickly  to  the 
ground  where  he  leaned  against  the  car  for  a 
support  that  was  plainly  needed.  "Thank 
God  for  that!" 

He  was  now  seen  to  be  a  thin,  fragile-look- 
ing man  of  middle  age,  the  face  haggard  and 
worn  but  with  a  look  of  refinement  unmistak- 
able even  under  his  several  days'  stubble  of 

157 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

beard.  He  wore  no  hat  and  his  thatch  of  gray 
hair  was  in  wild  disorder.  He  was  coatless 
and  his  white  shirt  was  soiled  with  splashes  of 
dried  mud,  as  were  his  black  trousers  and 
tattered  shoes.  At  his  throat  were  the  torn 
remainders  of  a  white  collar  and  a  narrow 
black  tie.  He  was  sadly  dusty  and  brambles 
clung  to  his  lower  garments.  One  sleeve  of 
his  shirt  had  been  torn  off  at  the  elbow.  Alto- 
gether he  was  not  a  person  the  Hotel  Regina 
Margherita  would  have  received  as  a  guest 
without  pointed  questionings. 

Pike  studied  him  keenly  as  his  breathing 
slowed.  And,  though  neither  of  them  knew  it, 
he  was  being  at  that  moment  as  keenly  studied 
by  another  person.  The  rear  wing  of  the  hotel 
still  regarded  the  scene  with  eyes  apparently 
blank,  but  one  of  the  awninged  windows  was 
no  longer  sightless. 

Lady  Creech,  aroused  by  the  shot  at  about 
the  twenty-fifth  of  her  daily  forty  winks  had 
gone   indignantly   to   her  window   and   now 

158 


MR.    PIKE   SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

stared  indignantly  from  behind  its  sheltering 
curtain.  She  had  observed  the  unceremonious 
entry  of  the  newcomer,  and  now  as  he  leaned 
exhausted  against  the  car  she  brought  a  pair 
of  excellent  binoculars  to  his  minuter  study. 
She  saw,  and  presently  became  maddened  that 
she  could  not  hear,  for  a  conversation  of  un- 
doubted significance  was  proceeding  almost 
at  her  feet  and  she  could  learn  no  word  of  it. 
More  keenly  she  watched,  then,  always  witH 
care  to  screen  herself  from  observation. 

"I'm  glad  enough  I'm  an  American,"  re- 
marked Pike  after  his  scrutiny,  "but  what 
makes  you  so  glad  about  it?" 

"Because  I  have  suffered  in  the  cause  your 
own  forefathers  gave  their  lives  for,"  answered 
the  other  quickly.  "I  am  a  Russian  political 
fugitive  and  I  can  go  no  farther.  But  if  you 
give  me  up  I  shall  not  be  taken  alive — I  have 

no  weapon  but  I  can  find  a  way  to " 

Across  his  throat  he  made  a  sinister  pass  witK 
the  edge  of  one  hand. 

159 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

"Russian,  eh?  Say,  are  you  the  bandit 
they're  looking  for?"  He  stared  at  the  fugi- 
tive with  humorous  increduhty, 

"They  call  me  that."  He  spread  his  hands 
wide  before  him  in  a  gesture  of  helplessness. 
"Do  I  look  hke  a  bandit?" 

"How  close  are  they?'* 

"But  there "  He  pointed  to  the  wall  He 

had  climbed.    "Oh,  close,  close!" 

"Did  they  see  you  climb  that  wall?'* 

"I  can't  be  sure — I  think  not.  There !  My 
God,  they  have  found  me!"  A  loud  ringing 
of  the  bell  at  the  gate  caused  him  to  stagger 
against  the  car.  Instinctively  he  threw  up  one 
arm  as  if  to  guard  his  face  from  a  blow.  The 
ringing  continued  and  he  cowered  from  it. 
Pike  was  now  stripping  off  the  blouse  he  had 
worked  in. 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  gear-box 
plugs?"  he  demanded  quickly. 

"Nothing  in  the  world,"  confessed  the  un- 
fortimate  desperately. 

160 


If  you  give  me  up  I  sliall  not  be  taken  alive — ' 


\C^'^l^ 


MR,   PIKE   SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

"Then  you're  a  chauffeur  all  right.  Here!" 
Deftly  he  slipped  the  arms  of  the  dazed  man 
into  the  blouse  sleeves  and  pulled  the  thing 
about  him.  "Now  take  a  good  look  at  this 
gear-box — it's  underneath  the  machine"  he 
added  as  the  other  faced  him  blankly.  Hastily 
and  not  too  gently  he  forced  the  fugitive 
under  the  rear  of  the  car.  "Crawl  farther 
under,"  he  warned,  as  he  rapidly  wiped  his 
hands  on  his  last  clean  rag  and  put  on  his  own 
hat  and  coat  which  had  reposed  on  the  rear 
seat  of  the  car.  As  Mariano  rushed  from  the 
hotel  with  many  and  loud  words  of  his  coming 
to  the  unknown  ones  who  rang  at  the  gate,  he 
saw  the  American,  one  careless  foot  on  the 
car's  running-board,  placidly  light  a  cigar. 

"Corpo  de  St.  Costanzo!"  swore  Mariano 
roundly  at  this  display  of  unconcern  at  so 
eventful  a  moment,  and  madly  he  threw  open 
the  gate  to  fall  back  in  consternation  before 
what  it  revealed.  Two  hurried-looking  cara- 
biniere  faced  him,  their  cloaks  flung  back,  their 

161 


THE   MAN  FROM  HOME 

carbines  held  alertly  forward.  Close  behind 
them  crowded  a  noisy  throng  of  the  populace, 
eager,  voluble,  pushing.  "Dio  Mio!"  swore 
Mariano  again. 

The  two  carabiniere  entered  briskly.  Mari- 
ano sprang  to  close  the  gate  behind  them  with 
severe  words  to  the  villagers  he  was  thwarting, 
and  turned  to  his  official  callers.  "We  search," 
said  they  in  fair  unison,  "for  the  assassin  of 
Russia." 

Mariano  was  staggered.  "My  God,"  said 
he  protestingly,  "but  not  in  the  garden  of  the 
Hotel  Regina  Margherita!"  Mariano  con- 
veyed by  this  that  no  assassin  of  whatever 
country  and  how  desperate  soever,  would  so 
far  forget  himself  as  to  seek  a  refuge  within 
this  sacred  grove,  and  that  to  come  here  in 
search  of  one  was  therefore  to  waste  time.  One 
of  the  carabiniere  approached  Pike.  "Have 
you,"  he  said,  "seen  a  man  scale  that  wall?" 
but  as  he  said  it  in  words  strange  to  Pike  the 
latter  merely   replied   with   great   geniality, 

162 


MR.   PIKE   SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

"The  same  to  you,  Colonel — and  wishing  you 
many  happy  returns." 

Mariano,  the  polyglot,  here  interposed. 

"It  is  the  robber  from  Russia,  signore. 
They  think  he  dare  to  come  to  this  our  garden 
of  the  hotel.  The  other  carabiniere  they  sur- 
round all  yonder.  These  two  must  search 
here.  They  ask  you,  please,  have  you  seen  the 
assassin  climb  that  wall." 

"No!"  said  Mr.  Pike,  ingenuously  ver- 
acious. "What's  he  exploding  about  now?" 
he  demanded  as  the  carabiniere  again  burst 
into  speech. 

"He  wish  you  to  say  has  any  one  go  across 
here?" 

"Across  here?"  Mr.  Pike  conscientiously 
indicated  the  area  in  question  with  a  sweep  of 
his  arm.    "No!" 

The  carabiniere  now  made  another  demand. 
Even  Pike  caught  his  meaning  for  he  was 
pointing  with  his  gun  to  the  person  under  the 
car. 

168 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"He  want  to  know  what  person  that  is,"  ex- 
plained Mariano  needlessly. 

Pike,  having  apparently  lost  interest  in  the 
inquisition,  absently  studied  the  smoke  from 
his  cigar  as  it  floated  lazily  before  him  in  the 
still  air.  He  seemed  to  recall  himself  with  diffi- 
culty. 

"That?"  He  himself  pointed  to  the  person 
under  the  car  (who  now  hammered  noisily)  as 
if  amiably  wishing  to  be  certain  who  it  was 
they  asked  about.  "Oh,  that!  Why,  that's 
the  new  chauffer  from  Naples.  Hey,  Jim!" 
he  called  sharply,  "get  a  move  on  there.  We 
don't  want  to  stop  here  forever." 

Mariano  interpreted  to  the  questioner. 
"He  says  that  is  the  chauffeur  of  an  illustrious 
personage  who  owns  the  automobile." 

The  carabiniere  bowed  his  thanks.  "Then 
we  go  to  search  most  carefully."  The  two 
glided  furtively  into  the  hidden  recesses  of 
the  garden. 

Mariano's   appalled  hands   celebrated  this 

164 


MR.    PIKE   SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

display  of  courage.  "Dio  mio,  signore,  but 
those  are  the  brave  men.  Perhaps  either  one 
shall  in  a  moment  meet  this  powerful  assassin 
who  make  him  dead  Uke  that."  He  snapped 
thumb  and  finger  to  portray  the  quickness  of 
this  death.  But  now  he  was  distressed  anew 
by  the  swelling  murmur  of  voices  behind  the 
closed  gate.  The  cheated  populace  clamored 
there  for  a  sight  of  whatever  delectable  busi- 
ness might  be  going  forward.  Mariano  darted 
to  the  gate  drew  it  savagely  open  and  brand- 
ished a  napkin  at  the  crowd.  "Go  quickly," 
commanded  Mariano.  "But  are  we  not  men, 
my  God!"  protested  the  foremost.  "Have  we 
not  the  right  to  enjoy  what  the  good  God 
sends  us?"  Mariano  stormed.  The  populace 
stormed  back  at  him.  One  of  the  populace  had 
placed  his  foot  where  it  would  prevent  that 
gate  from  again  closing.  He  did  this  unosten- 
tatiously and  while  he  argued  with  Mariano 
tried  to  look  as  if  the  foot  were  not  his.  This 
abundantly  vocalized  contest  was  at  its  height 

165 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

when  Herr  von  GroUerhagen  issued  from  the 
hotel  triumphantly  waving  the  rags  he  had 
been  sent  for. 

"Is  this  another  eruption  of  Vesuvius?"  he 
demanded  of  the  apparently  bored  Pike. 

The  latter  yawned  as  he  took  the  rags. 
"No;  it's  an  eruption  of  colonels  trying  to 
arrest  a  high-school  professor."  He  paused 
for  a  brief  attention  to  his  cigar.  "I've  got 
him  under  your  car  there." 

"What!"  The  German  was  unfeignedly 
shocked. 

"I  told  them  he's  your  new  chauffeur." 

The  other  glanced  uneasily  at  the  rabble 
besieging  the  gate,  then  at  a  distant  cara- 
biniere  who  viciously  probed  a  choice  bit  of 
shrubbery  with  his  gun. 

"My  friend,  I  fear  you  do  not  realize  the 
penalty  for  protecting  a  criminal  from  arrest 
in  this  country." 

"We'll  be  proud  of  the  risk,"  retorted  Pike. 
iThen  in  an  undertone  he  addressed  the  half- 

166 


MR.    PIKE    SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 


concealed  fugitive.  "This  is  the  man  that 
owns  the  car.  You  can  trust  him  the  same  as 
your  own  father." 

The  German  remonstrated.  "My  friend,  my 
friend!" 

"Look  out,"  warned  Pike.  "That  Gov- 
ernor's staff  is  coming  back." 

The  two  carabiniere  returned  from  their 
fruitless  quest  as  Mariano  succeeded  in  closing 
the  gate.  "Lazzaroni!"  he  shouted  to  the 
aggrieved  ones  beyond,  and  came  to  where  the 
officers  conferred  mysteriously. 

"You'll  have  to  get  a  new  off  front  tire, 
Doc.  This  one  is  pretty  near  gone.  Better 
have  Jim  here  put  on  the  spare  when  he  gets 
through  with  that  gear-box."  Thus  Mr.  Pike 
in  tones  casual  but  slightly  raised. 

The  German  was  plainly  dismayed.  "Do 
you  know  what  it  is  you  are  asking  me  to  do?" 

"To  put  on  a  new  tire!"  The  other  turned 
away  with  an  exclamation  and  gesture  of 
despair  grimly  tinged  with  humor.     He  was 

167 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

disturbed,  but  this  American  was  incorrigible. 
Mariano  stepped  forward  to  address  Pike 
with  an  embarrassed  bow. 

"The  carabiniere  with  all  excuses  beg  if  you 
will  command  the  new  chauffeur  to  step  forth 
from  under  the  automobile." 

Mr.  Pike  became  indignant.  "2Vo^  sir;  I 
worked  on  that  machine  myself  for  three 
hours.  And  now  Jim,  there,  has  got  his  hands 
full  of  nuts  and  screws  and  bolts  half  fastened, 
and  if  he  lays  them  down  to  come  out  I  don't 
know  how  long  it'll  take  him  to  get  them  back 
again.  Say,  we  want  to  get  this  job  finished." 
There  was  now  a  plaintive  lift  in  his  voice. 
"This  is  serious!  Tell  those  boys  to  go  on  up 
Main  Street  with  their  Knights  of  Pythias 
parade  and  come  back  in  an  hour  or  two  when 
we  haven't  got  our  hands  full." 

Mariano  had  become  meek.  "Si,  signore, 
yes,  sir,  I  tell  them."  He  darted  to  the  two 
carabiniere  who  still  conferred  at  a  little  dis- 
tance. 

168 


MR.    PIKE   SINGS   AT   HIS   WORK 

Pike  seemed  again  to  be  engrossed  with  the 
car,  but  he  was  saying,  "Look  out.  Doc!  It'll 
be  your  turn  in  a  minute." 

Mariano  returned,  stiffened  anew  by  au- 
thority. "Bikoss  the  chauffeur  have  only  but 
now  arrive  those  carabiniere  ask  ten  thousand 
pardons  but  inquire  how  long  he  have  been 
known  to  his  employer."  He  bowed  with  em- 
barrassment to  the  car's  owner.  It  was  Pike, 
however,  who  answered  him. 

"How  long  Doc  has  known  him — ^why  he 
was  raised  on  Doc's  father's  farm."  He  ex- 
tended a  hand  toward  the  German  as  if  for 
corroboration? 

"Oh,  if  that  is  sol"  exclaimed  the  relieved 
Mariano. 

"Well,  it  is  so,  ain't  it.  Doc?" 

"You  have  heard  my  friend  say  it,"  replied 
the  other  with  dignity.  Pike  again  visibly  lost 
interest  in  this  tiring  examination.  He  seemed 
to  direct  the  new  chauffeur  in  his  work. 

"If  Monseigneur  would  graciously  consent 
169 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

that  I  reveal  his  incognito  to  those  car- 
abiniere,"  suggested  Mariano  in  a  scarce 
audible  undertone. 

The  German  frowned.    "Is  it  necessary?" 

"Otherwise  I  fear  they  will  not  withdraw. 
They  have  suspicion." 

"Very  well,  but  I  rely  upon  them  to  pre- 
serve my  incognito  from  all  others." 

Mariano  bowed  deeply.  "Monseigneur, 
they  will  be  discreet."  He  returned  to  the 
waiting  officers. 

"Make  a  noise — ^keep  busy!"  admonished 
Pike  to  the  man  beneath  the  car.  "But  don't 
you  unscrew  anything!"  he  added  in  quick 
alarm.  Then  he  glanced  up  to  observe  the 
carabiniere  disappearing  through  the  gate 
which  Mariano  had  opened  for  them.  "Say, 
you're  pretty  good,"  he  called  to  the  latter. 

"It  required  but  the  slightest  diplomacy," 
replied  Mariano  with  a  manner  he  meant  to  be 
deprecating  but  which  was,  in  truth,  arrantly 
boastful. 

170 


MB,    PIKE    SINGS   AT   HIS    WORK 

"He  must  have  mesmerized  the  militia," 
added  Pike  when  the  maitre  d'hotel  had  gone. 

"It  is  safe  for  a  moment,"  suggested  the 
German. 

Pike  bent  down.  "It's  all  right,  old  man." 
He  extended  a  hand  and  half  drew  the 
fugitive  to  his  feet.  The  latter  clutched  his 
throat  and  brokenly  sought  to  voice  his  thanks. 
"Oh,  I  will  pray  God  for  you  all  my  life — I 
will " 

"Quick,"  said  the  German.  "My  apart- 
ments are  in  the  lower  floor  of  this  wing.  I 
suggest  that  we  gain  them  without  loss  of 
time.    Our  inquiring  friends  may  return." 

"Right,  Doc.  Come  on,  Jim  I  We'll  have 
you  out  of  the  woods  in  no  time."  He  thrust 
a  supporting  hand  under  the  fugitive's  arm 
and  drew  him  on.  The  three  had  presently 
gained  a  door  leading  to  the  apartments  of 
Herr  von  GroUerhagen. 

Instantly  on  their  disappearance  the  curtain 
of  Lady  Creech's  window  was  whisked  aside 

171 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

and  she  popped  from  the  frame  with  the  sud- 
denness of  Punch  at  one  of  his  most  dramatic 
moments.  Far  out  she  leaned,  her  head  too 
nearly  upside-down  for  a  lady  of  her  social 
importance.  She  was  trying  to  watch  the 
vanished  ones  even  after  they  had  entered  the 
hotel — which  was  thoughtless  enough  of  her. 
In  cooler  moments  she  would  have  displayed 
a  better  understanding  of  the  known  laws  of 
matter. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CONCERNING  A   BANDIT 

In  the  sitting-room  of  one  of  the  choicest 
suites  boasted  of  in  its  advertising  matter  by 
the  Hotel  Regina  Margherita  sat  Daniel  Voor- 
hees  Pike  and  the  gentleman  for  whom  it  had 
that  morning  been  engaged  by  Monsieur 
Ribiere.  They  did  not  speak  because  they  were 
both  intently  watching  a  half-starved  man  who 
tore  at  the  food  before  him  on  a  small  table  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  room.  Ravenous  though 
he  was,  he  paused  from  moment  to  moment  to 
look  or  to  murmur  his  thanks  to  the  two  who 
watched  him. 

"Take  it  easy,  old  man,"  counselled  Pike  at 
such  times.  "Everything  is  all  right — you're 
among  friends."    Herr  von  Grollerhagen  re- 

173 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

mained  silent.  A  long  time  the  fugitive  con- 
tinued to  eat  under  Pike's  fascinated  regard 
and  the  coldly  cryptic  glances  of  his  compan- 
ion. Then  it  appeared  that  the  man's  exhaust- 
ed frame  would  endure  no  more.  Wearily  he 
turned  his  chair  from  the  table  and  drooped 
before  them  in  all  his  weakness,  only  his  eyes 
testifying  to  his  gratitude. 

"There!  That's  better,  ain't  it,  old  man?" 
said  Pike.  Herr  von  GroUerhagen  sat  erect  in 
his  chair. 

"My  American  friend,"  he  began  crisply, 
"has  just  placed  himself — and  myself — in 
danger  of  the  penal  code  of  Italy  by  protecting 
you  from  those  who  sought  you.  Perhaps  you 
will  now  be  so  good  as  to  let  us  know  for  what 
we  have  incriminated  ourselves." 

The  man  he  addressed  flashed  him  a  fright- 
ened look.    "You — ^you  are  a  Russian?" 

"There,  there,  don't  be  afraid,"  interposed 
Pike.    "He's  only  a  German." 

The  fugitive  evinced  relief  at  this  friendly 
174. 


CONCERNING  A   BANDIT 

assurance.  He  drew  himself  erect  to  say,  bitter- 
ly, "The  Italian  journals  call  me  a  brigand 
— inspired  by  the  Russian  legation  in  Rome. 
My  name,  it  is  Ivanoff  Ivanovitch.  Oh,  I  have 
suffered " 

"All  right,  old  man — all  right  now,"  put 
in  Pike  soothingly.  The  hunted  man  seemed 
to  draw  support  from  this  and  began  more 
calmly. 

"I  was  condenmed  in  Petersburg  ten  years 
ago.  I  was  a  professor  of  languages — a 
translator  in  the  bureau  of  the  Minister  of  Fi- 
nance. And  then,  also — I  was  a  member  of 
the  Society  of  the  Blue  Fifty,  a  constitutional- 
ist, you  understand " 

"Good  for  you!"  murmured  Pike. 

"I  was  able  to  do  but  little  for  our  great 
cause,  though  I  tried." 

"How  did  you  try?"  The  searching  eyes  of 
the  German  were  back  of  this  swiftly-put  in- 
quiry. 

"We  had  so  little  money — I  transferred 
175 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

funds  of  the  Government  to  the  Society. 
Never — ^never  one  single  ruble  for  myself." 
He  dealt  sharp  blows  to  his  breast  at  this.  "It 
was  always  for  Russia's  sake — ^not  minel" 

Herr  von  GroUerhagen  for  the  moment  wore 
a  mask  of  utter  cynicism.  "Almost  there  is 
but  one  crime  in  Russia,"  he  said,  "and  you 
committed  that — ^you  committed  the  unpar- 
donable Russian  crime  of  getting  yourself 
caught." 

"Through  treachery — ^treachery  I  could 
not  have  suspected.  An  Englishman  lived  in 
Petersburg — ^he  had  contracts  with  the  gov- 
ernment— I  thought  he  was  my  best  friend. 
I  had  married  in  my  student  days  in  Paris — 
Ah,  you  will  laugh  at  me,  the  story  is  so  old. 
I  knew  that  this  Englishman  admired  my  wife. 
But  I  trusted  him — as  I  trusted  her — and 
he  made  my  house  his  home.  I  had  fifty  thou- 
sand rubles  in  my  desk  to  be  delivered  to  my 
society.  The  police  came  to  search ;  they  found 
only    me — not    my   wife,    nor    my    English 

176 


CONCERNING  A    BANDIT 

friend — ^nor  the  fifty  thousand  rubles!*'  A 
moment  his  eyes  blazed  and  his  emaciated 
hands  worked  convulsively.  Then  he  finished 
quite  simply,  "I  went  to  Siberia.  Now  I  search 
for  those  two." 

"It  was  they  who  sent  the  police?"  asked  the 
German. 

"After  they  had  taken  the  money  and  were 
beyond  the  frontier  themselves.  That  is  all" 
— he  laughed  grimly — "that  is  all  I  have 
against  them." 

"Looks  to  me  like  that  would  be  about 
enough,"  drawled  Pike. 

"Then  by  your  own  confession,"  remarked 
the  German  with  sudden  sharpness,  "you  are 
an  embezzler  and  a  revolutionist."  The  culprit 
drooped  again  in  his  chair.  Pike  quickly  in- 
tervened. 

"Why,  the  man's  down.  Doc.  You  wouldn't 
go  back  on  him  now.  Besides,"  he  chuckled  at 
this  enjoyable  fact,  "besides,  you've  made 
yourself  one  of  his  confederates  already." 

177 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"Upon  my  soul,  so  I  have!"  The  German 
laughed  helplessly.  "My  friend,  I  salute  you. 
From  my  first  sight  of  you  in  the  hotel  at  Na- 
poli  I  saw  that  you  were  a  great  man.  But  as 
to  our — as  to  Professor  Ivanoff  here — ^I 
do  not  think  the  officers  went  away  without 
suspicion." 

"Suspicion!"  cried  Ivanoff.  "But  yes;  they 
will  watch  every  exit  from  the  hotel  and  its 
grounds.    What  can  I  do  until  darkness " 

"Easy — take  it  easy  now,"  urged  Pike. 
"Doc  here  has  a  lot  of  rooms  for  his  help,  and 
you're  his  new  chauffeur." 

"I  was  about  to  suggest  it,"  responded  the 
host  quickly  and  a  little  grimly.  "I  have  a 
room  that  can  easily  be  spared  to  Professor 
Ivanoff,  and  my  valet  de  chambre  will  find 
some  suitable  clothing  for  him." 

"No  one  will  come  here  to  bother  you," 
added  Pike. 

"No  one  will  bother  him  for  the  present," 
conceded  the  German. 

178 


CONCERNING  A    BANDIT 

"And  don't  you  go  out,"  added  Pike. 

"And  he  will  not  go  out ;  I  shall  take  care  of 
that,"  affinned  the  German  with  curious  em- 
phasis. 

The  fugitive  seized  Pike's  hand  and  wrung 
it.  He  turned  to  offer  his  hand  to  Herr  von 
GroUerhagen  but  the  latter,  apparently  with- 
out noticing  this,  turned  away. 

"I  shall  leave  you,"  he  continued,  "in  good 
hands.  My  servants  are  competent.  Mean- 
time, my  friend — "  he  turned  to  Pike —  "I 
beg  your  indulgence  while  I  transact  some  bus- 
iness and  make  the  call  for  which  I  came  to 
this  place.  Wiedersehn,  my  friend!"  He  took 
hat  and  stick  from  the  waiting  valet  who  had 
entered  at  his  ring,  saluted  them  both  and  was 
gone.  Pike  turned  to  Ivanoff  who  stared 
curiously  after  their  host. 

"Now,  old  man,  you're  all  in,  so  what  you 
want  is  a  good  rest.  Just  you  lie  do^vn  on  that 
sofa  over  there  and  sleep  for  a  couple  of  hours. 
I'll  keep  an  eye  open  around  outside  here." 

179 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"That  gentleman  who  has  left — ^he  spoke 
queerly." 

"Pshaw!  Doe  ain't  a  bit  queer;  he's  just 
careful.  You  go  right  to  sleep  just  as  if  you 
were  in  your  own  home.  Afterwards  you  go 
in  there  and  get  a  good  bath  and  that  boy  of 
Doc's  will  have  some  clothes  for  you — ^Doc 
told  him  to  and  he's  about  your  size.  Then 
after  it's  dark  we'll  figure  out  some  way  to  get 
you  off.  I  reckon  I  can  have  that  automobile 
in  fine  shape  in  another  ten  minutes.  We'll 
just  naturally  tuck  you  away  in  there  and 
have  you  out  of  the  county  in  no  time.  Come  1" 
He  assisted  the  other  to  the  couch  he  had  in- 
dicated and  threw  a  travelling-rug  over  him. 
"There!  I'll  bet  that  feels  good  after  what 
you've  been  through."  He  walked  softly  to 
a  window  giving  upon  the  garden.  Almost 
before  he  reached  this  he  heard  the  deep,  regu- 
lar breathing  of  the  exhausted  man,  already 
asleep. 

He  pulled  aside  the  curtain  which  had  been 

180 


CONCERNING  A    BANDIT 

drawn  when  they  entered  and  looked  out  into 
the  garden.  He  wished,  with  as  little  publicity 
as  possible,  to  achieve  the  finishing  touches  to 
the  motor-car  waiting  there.  His  first  im- 
pression was  that  this  part  of  the  garden  was 
deserted,  but  a  second  glance  showed  him  that 
a  marble  bench  a  few  steps  from  the  car  was 
now  occupied  by  two  people.  'A  little  hiss  of 
annoyance  escaped  him  as  he  surveyed  the  pair. 
They  were  talking  animatedly  and  though  he 
could  hear  nothing,  their  manners,  their  atti- 
tudes, their  expressive  pantomime  conveyed  the 
situation  of  the  moment  clearly  to  the  watcher's 
sadly  amused  eyes.  The  situation  thus  adver- 
tised was  nothing  less  than  the  complete  en- 
thrallment  of  brother  Horace  to  the  fascinat- 
ing Comtesse  de  Champigny  who  was  using  her 
eyes  without  mercy  as  she  nestled  at  one  end  of 
the  bench. 

"Ah,  but  you  laugh  at  me,  chere  Comtesse," 
Horace  was  saying  in  his  most  knig;htly  man- 
ner. 

181 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

The  charming  woman  widened  her  eyes  to 
display  a  timid,  deep  concern.  "But  I  laugh 
to  cover  my  confusion,"  she  said  gently.  "It 
is  because  I  cannot  believe  you  are  always  seri- 
ous." 

Horace  seemed  cruelly  torn  by  the  doubt. 
He  protested  almost  deliriously.  "Serious, 
chere  Comtesse !  Like  a  lady  to  her  knight  of 
old,  set  me  a  task  to  prove  how  serious  I  am." 

"Ah,  gladly!"  There  was  sweet  compliance 
in  the  beautiful  eyes.  "Complete,  then,  those 
odious  matters  of  that  settlement.  Overcome 
the  resistance  of  this  bad  man  who  so  trouble 
your  sweet  sister." 

"And  you  promise  me  that  when  that  is 
settled  I  may  speak  to  you "  Horace  be- 
came suddenly  nervous  and  swallowed  pain- 
fully. " — that  I  may  speak  to  you — I 
mean "                           ^ 

"Yes,  speak  to  me,"  suggested  the  Comtesse 
with  a  flash  of  womanly  compassion. 

"Speak   to  you — as   you   must  know   my 

182 


CONCERNING   A    BANDIT 


heart  longs  to  speak — as  I  hardly  dare- 


The  eyes  of  the  Comtesse  were  upon  the 
ground,  her  tones  of  softest  velvet.  "Ah,  that 
shall  be  when  you  please,  dear  friend!"  The 
creature  was  defenseless  before  him.  Horace 
detected  as  much.  He  seized  her  hand  to  draw 
it  to  his  lips.  But  this  graceful  and  affecting 
salutation  was  never  completed.  Horace  re- 
linquished the  pretty  hand  as  the  excited  voice 
of  Lady  Creech  fell  upon  his  ears.  He  mut- 
tered his  annoyance  and  was  rewarded  by  a 
flash  of  comprehending  sympathy  from  the 
lady  he  bent  above. 

Along  the  gravelled  path  that  led  around 
this  wing  of  the  hotel  came  Lady  Creech  and 
the  Earl  of  Hawcastle.  Her  Ladyship  was 
perhaps  not  more  indignant  than  common, 
but  she  was  far  more  perturbed  than  she  usual- 
ly permitted  herself  to  be.  She  was  gesticulat- 
ing with  an  almost  Latin  fluency  and  spoke 
rapidly  to  his  lordship  who  was  for  once  paying 
her  the  prof  oundest  attention.    The  pair  on  the 

183 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

bench  arose,  the  Comtesse  shyly  placing  a  hand 
on  the  arm  of  Horace.  The  latter  reflected 
that  there  were  still  more  secret  places  in  that 
joyous  garden. 

His  lordship  hailed  them  and  spoke  with 
rather  more  than  his  accustomed  seriousness, 
though  he  strove  for  an  effect  of  lightness. 
**Have  you  any  news  of  that  wonderful  bandit 
chase,  my  young  friend?" 

"Only  that  they're  still  hunting  him,"  replied 
Horace.  "They  seem  to  think  he  may  be  about 
these  grounds  somewhere ;  they  have  the  whole 
place  surrounded  outside  the  walls  there." 

"What  did  I  tell  you — "  began  Lady 
Creech  heatedly.    "Now  will  you " 

His  lordship  silenced  her  with  his  most  com- 
pelling gesture. 

"Of  course  there's  no  cause  for  alarm,  Lady 
Creech."  Horace  spoke  masterfully.  "The 
Comtesse  and  I  are  going  to  explore  the 
grounds  directly.  I  dare  say  we  may  bag  the 
brute — ^if  you  will  come,   chere   Comtesse." 

184 


CONCERNING  A    BANDIT 

The  Comtesse  shuddered  prettily  but  did  not 
withdraw  her  hand  from  his  arm. 

"And  on  your  w^ay,"  said  his  lordship,  "do 
you  mind  stopping  at  your  sister's  door  and 
telling  her  that  I  should  very  much  like  to  see 
her  here  at  once.  It's  rather  important,  you 
know." 

"But  of  course,  I  shall  tell  her  at  once.  I 
say,  is  there  something  up?" 

His  lordship  brightened,  hesitated,  then 
spoke  with  quiet  emphasis. 

"My  dear  young  man,  I  almost  believe  I  may 
congratulate  you  that  you  and  your  sister  need 
no  longer  submit  to  an  odious  dictation." 

"Ripping — rippin'!"  exclaimed  Horace  joy- 
ously, thrilling  a  little  at  having  dropped 
the  "g"  the  second  time.  "Come,  chere  Com- 
tesse, let's  find  Sis  for  his  lordship."  As 
they  moved  away  he  called  back,  "I 
knew  we'd  fetch  the  beggar  about  some- 
howl" 

His  lordship  turned  to  the  still  smouldering 

185 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

Lady  Creech.  "You  are  sure?"  he  asked 
quickly. 

"I  tell  you,"  responded  the  other,  "I  couldn't 
hear  a  thing  they  said,  they  mumbled  their 
words  so — dreadful  persons! — ^but  upon  my 
soul,  Hawcastle,  if  I  couldn't  hear,  I  saw 
enough,  didn't  I?" 

"Upon  my  soul  I  believe  you  did."  He  in- 
terestedly scanned  the  window  from  which 
Pike  was  still  watching  with  growing  impa- 
tience. 

"Very  well — ^then  how  long  do  you  pro- 
pose  " 

His  lordship  again  grew  imperative. 
"Listen  to  me."  He  drew  close  to  utter  his 
speech  into  the  more  sensitive  ear  of  his  sister- 
in-law.  "You  are  missing  the  point  by  a  mile 
— the  real  point.  I've  no  time  to  explain  it 
now,  but  remember,  you  shall  not  repeat  to  an- 
other soul  one  single  word  of  what  you  saw. 
Don't  mistake  me — not  one  word  to  an- 
other soul!  You  would  spoil  everything.    Now 

186 


CONCERNING  A   BANDIT 

go,  please — better  go  to  your  own  room — and 
let  me  handle  this." 

She  raised  a  hand  in  protest  but  dropped  it 
as  Pike  appeared  in  the  adjacent  doorway, 
"Dreadful  person!"  she  proclaimed.  "I  shan't 
stop  on  a  moment  in  the  creature's  presence." 
She  departed  majestically  on  the  words,  her 
head  back  at  the  angle  of  offense.  Pike  strolled 
easily  toward  the  car,  with  an  unconcerned 
glance  or  two  at  the  cloudless  sky.  Watching 
at  that  window  it  had  occurred  to  him  that  he 
had  best  be  out.  He  suspected  that  perhaps  his 
presence  might  discourage  these  people  who 
seemed  to  choose  this  spot  of  all  others  for  their 
confidences.  He  was  not  alarmed  but  he  pre- 
ferred that  this  particular  portion  of  the  garden 
should  for  the  present  be  his  alone.  Reaching 
the  car  in  his  sauntering  progress  he  touched 
various  parts  of  the  engine  contemplatively. 
The  Earl  of  Hawcastle  drew  near,  loungingly. 

"Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Pike,"  he  began 
suavely. 

187 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

**Howdy!"  responded  the  other,  unscrewing 
the  cap  that  admitted  water  to  the  tank. 

"Mr.  Pike  it  is  an  immense  pity  that  there 
should  have  been  any  misunderstanding  in  the 
matter  of  your  ward's  betrothal  and  approach- 
ing marriage." 

Pike  looked  up  to  speak  mildly.  "Oh,  1 
wouldn't  exactly  call  it  a  misunderstanding." 

His  lordship  persisted  pleasantly.  "It  would 
ill-become  a  father  to  press  upon  the  subject 
of  his  son's  merits " 

"Say,"  broke  in  the  other  plaintively,  "I 
don't  want  to  talk  about  Mm — I  don't  want 
to  hurt  your  feelings  any  more  than  I  have  to." 

"Perhaps  I  might  better  put  it  on  the  ground 
of  your  ward's  wishes,"  continued  his  lordship 
persuasively —  "on  the  ground  of  certain  ad- 
vantages of  position  which  it  is  the  desire  of 
herself  and  her  brother  to  attain." 

Mr.  Pike  remained  stubborn.  "I  can't  talk 
about  that  with  anyone  but  her,"  he  said. 

"There  is  still  another  matter,"  remarked  his 

188 


CONCERNING  A   BANDIT 

lordship  with  a  slight  change  of  manner,  "an- 
other matter  that — "  He  was  interrupted  by 
Mariano  who  brought  to  Pike  a  letter  on  a 
tray.  Pike  seized  this  with  evident  relief  and 
studied  it  with  profound  thought. 

"I  fear  I  do  not  have  your  attention,  said 
the  other  when  Mariano  had  gone. 

Pike  looked  up  absently.  "Oh,  all  right,  go 
ahead!" 

"I  say  there  is  another  matter  to  which  I 
may  wish  to  call  your  attention." 

Pike  became  at  once  genial.  "Oh,  any  other 
matter — all  right.  I'll  talk  with  you  about 
anything  else." 

"This  is  a  question  distinctly  different."  He 
permitted  himself  a  glance  at  the  door  to  the 
German's  apartment,  and  there  was  a  slightly 
sinister  emphasis  on  his  concluding  words, 
"Distinctly  different!"  He  turned  as  Miss 
Ethel  Simpson  appeared  on  the  walk  behind 
him.  With  a  final  threatening  survey  of 
Pike — ^upon  whom  it  was  lost,  for  the  latter 

189 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

again  studied  the  envelope  of  the  letter  he  held 

in  his  hands — ^he  turned  and  went  to  greet  the 

girl. 

"My  dear  child,"  he  said  as  he  protectingly 

covered  her  hand,  "I  wish  you  to  have  one  more 
chat  with  our  strangely  prejudiced  friend  here 
on  the  subject  so  dear  to  all  our  hearts.  And  I 
wish  to  tell  you  that  I  see  light  breaking 
through  our  clouds.  Even  if  he  still  prove  ob- 
durate, do  not  be  downcast — all  will  be  well." 
He  went  on  through  the  winding  aisle  of 
cypress,  his  voice  floating  back  benignly — 
"All  will  be  well!" 

Miss  Simpson  advanced  toward  the  man  who 
still  regarded  his  unopened  letter. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AS   TO   THE    HUMAN    BEINGS   IN    KOKOMO   AND 
ELSEWHERE 

The  emotional  stress  to  which  Miss  Simpson 
had  been  subjected  now  betrayed  itself  cruelly 
in  her  face.  Her  lids  were  reddened,  her 
mouth  drawn,  her  radiance  abated.  These 
ravages  cut  to  the  heart  of  Pike  as  he  noted 
them. 

"Poor  child,"  he  said,  "don't  you  think  I 
don't  know  what  a  hard  time  you've  been  hav- 
ing.   I'm  awful  sorry " 

"I  didn't  come  here  for  sympathy  from 
your 

"Of  course  not!"  He  laughed  away  this 
absurdity  rather  painfully,  then  resumed, 
"But  I'm  mighty  glad  you  are  here,  just  the 

191 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

same.  I've  just  received  a  letter  I  want  to 
read  to  you." 

"I  didn't  come  here  to  hear  you  read,  either." 

"I  know  that,  too.  But  maybe  you'll  excuse 
this,  because  it's  bound  to  be  important.  You 
see  when  I  got  your  cable  there  at  home  I 
wrote  right  off  to  Jim  Cooley,  our  vice-consul 
at  London,  to  look  up  the  records  of  these 
Hawcastle  folks  and  write  to  me  here  how  they 
stand  in  their  own  community." 

"What!"  Miss  Simpson  was  at  once  ap- 
palled, 

"What's  thought  of  them  by  the  best  citizens 
of  their  home  town  and  so  on,"  explained  the 
other  ingenuously. 

The  girl  shuddered.  "You  had  the  audacity 
— you — ^to  pry  into  the  affairs  of  the  Earl 
of  Hawcastle!"  There  was  rage  in  her  tones, 
but  the  offender  persisted. 

"Why,  I'd  have  done  that — I  wouldn't  have 
stopped  at  anything — I'd  have  done  that  if  it 
had  been  the  Governor  of  Indiana  himself." 

192 


AS  TO  HUMAN  BEINGS 

He  instinctively  lowered  his  voice  as  he  spoke 
of  this  monstrous  extreme. 

The  girl  was  unimpressed.  "You  didn't 
consider  it  indelicate  to  write  to  strangers 
about  my  intimate  affairs?" 

"Why,  Jim  Cooley  isn't  a  stranger.  Jim's 
home-folks.  His  office  used  to  be  in  the  same 
building  with  mine." 

"Oh!  it's  horrible!  And  when  they  find  what 
you've  done — Oh,  hadn't  you  shamed  me 
enough  without  this?" 

"There,  there,  you  poor  child!  I  expect  this 
letter'll  show  who  ought  to  be  ashamed.  Come, 
now,  let's  just  sit  down  on  that  bench  there  and 
try  to  work  things  out  together." 

She  emitted  a  slight,  bitter  laugh,  but  she 
moved  to  the  bench  and  sat  at  the  extreme  end. 
"Work  things  out  together!"  she  exclaimed 
with  doleful  resignation.  Sadly  Pike  noted 
the  distance  she  had  placed  herself  from  him 
and  her  averted,  indignant  face. 

"I  haven't  opened  this  letter  yet,"  he  be- 
193 


THE  MAN   FROM  HOME 

gan.  "I  want  you  to  read  it  first.  But  I  ought 
to  tell  you  there's  probably  things  in  it  that 
will  hurt  your  feelings,  sort  of,  maybe." 

"How?"  she  demanded  icily,  without  turning 
her  head. 

"Well,  I  haven't  a  doubt  that  Jim  will  have 
some  statements  here  that  will  show  you  I'm 
right  about  these  people.  If  he  got  the  facts, 
I  know  he  will." 

"How  do  you  know  it?" 

"Because  I've  had  experience  enough  of 
life " 

"In  Kokomo?"  This  interruption  was 
spirited  and  deeply  scornful.  She  almost  rel- 
ished the  scorn  of  it.  But  the  other  was  un- 
daunted. 

"Yes,  ma  am!  There's  just  as  many  kinds 
of  people  in  Kokomo  as  there  are  in  Pekin,  and 
I  didn't  serve  a  term  in  the  Indiana  legisla- 
ture without  learning  to  pick  underhanded  men 
at  sight.  Now  this  Earl,  let  alone  his  having 
a  bad  eye,  he's  altogether  too  much  on  the 

194 


AS  TO  HUMAN  BEINGS 

stripe  of  T.  Cuthbert  Bentley  to  suit  me." 
The  girl  made  a  sharp  gesture  of  impatience 
which  he  disregarded,  though  he  slowly  opened 
the  envelope  as  he  continued  rather  drawlingly, 
"T.  Cuthbert  was  a  Chicago  gentleman  with 
a  fur-lined  overcoat.  He  opened  up  a  bank  in 
our  town  and  when  he  caught  the  Canadian  ex- 
press three  months  later  all  he  left  in  Kokomo 
was  the  sign  on  the  front  door."  He  paused 
briefly.  "That  was  painted  on!  But  there, 
here's  Jim's  letter;  read  it  yourself." 

She  snatched  the  sheet  from  him  and  turned 
her  eyes  upon  it  after  she  had  employed  them 
ably  to  glare  at  him.  She  dashed  confidently 
into  the  letter. 

"Deae  Dan: 

The  Earldom  of  Hawcastle  is  one  of  the  oldest  in 
this  kingdom  and  the  St.  Aubjns  have  distinguished 
themselves  in  the  forefront  of  English  battles  from 
Crecy  and  Agincourt  to  Sebastopol." 

She  read  in  ringing  tones,  with  a  triumph- 
ing glance  at  the  puzzled  man  beside  her. 

195 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"The  present  holder  of  the  title  came  into  it  un- 
expectedly through  a  series  of  accidental  deaths.  He 
was  a  younger  son's  younger  son  and  had  spent  some 
years  in  Russia  in  business — what,  I  do  not  know — 
under  another  name,  or  rather,  probably,  under  one 
of  the  numerous  family  names.  I  suppose  he  as- 
sumed this  that  the  historic  name  of  St.  Aubyn  might 
not  be  tarnished  by  trade  associations.  He  has 
spent  so  much  of  his  life  out  of  England  that  it  is 
difficult  to  find  out  much  about  him.  Nothing  here 
in  his  English  record  is  seriously  against  him,  though 
everything  he  has  is  mortgaged  well  up  to  its  value, 
the  entail  of  the  estate  having  been  broken." 

The  reader  paused  to  flash  an  amused  glance 
at  the  now  depressed  Pike. 

"As  to  his  son,  the  Honorable  Almeric  St.  Aubyn, 
no  objection  seems  to  be  alleged  against  his  character. 
He  appears  to  be  thought  harmless  enough.  That's 
all  I've  been  able  to  learn." 

She  finished  with  an  air  of  triumphant  final- 
ity and  arose  with  a  laugh. 

"A  terrible  indictment,  indeed!  So  that  was 
what  you  relied  upon  to  convince  me  of  my 
mistake?" 

196 


AS  TO  HUMAN  BEINGS 


"Yes — it  was!"  admitted  the  distressed 
Pike. 

"Do  you  assert  there  is  one  word  in  this  seri- 
ously discreditable  to  the  reputation  of  Lord 
Hawcastle  or  Mr.  St.  Aubyn?" 

"No,"  confessed  the  other,  almost  humbly. 

"And  remember  it  is  the  testimony  of  your 
own  friend — of  your  own  detective"  This 
was  scornful  indeed. 

Pike  faced  her,  rueful,  crestfallen.  "Oh,  if 
I  wanted  a  detective  I  wouldn't  get  Jim  Coo- 
ley — at  least  not  any  more." 

"Then  I  shall  tell  Lord  Hawcastle,"  she  an- 
swered almost  graciously,  "that  you  will  be 
ready  to  take  up  the  matter  of  the  settlement 
the  moment  his  solicitor  arrives." 

"No— I  wouldn't  exactly  do  that." 

"Why  not?"  she  challenged. 

Mr.  Pike  spoke  doggedly.  "Because  I  won't 
take  up  the  matter  of  that  settlement  with  him 
or  anyone  else." 

"Do  you  mean,"  she  retorted,  angry  again, 
197 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"that  you  cannot  see  what  a  humiliation  your 
interference  has  brought  upon  you  in  this?" 

"Oh,  I  see  that  plain  enough." 

"Then  have  you  any  further  objection  to  mj^ 
alliance  with  Mr.  St.  Aubyn?" 

"It  isn't  an  alliance  with  Mr.  St.  Aubyn 
that  you're  after,"  declared  the  other  bluntly, 

"Then  what  am  I — "  scornful  indeed  was  the 
emphasis  with  which  she  freighted  the  jSnal 

word— 'V^^^.^'' 

"You're  after  something  there  isn't  anything 
to,"  he  began  slowly.  "And  if  I'd  let  you  buy 
what  you  want  with  your  money  and  your 
whole  life  you'd  find  it  as  empty  as  the  morning 
after  Judgment  Day."  The  girl  turned  from 
him,  smihng  and  superior.  His  drawl  became 
again  noticeable  as  he  saw  this.  "You  think 
because  I'm  a  jay  country  lawyer  I  don't  un- 
derstand it  and  couldn't  understand  you.  Why, 
bless  your  heart,  we  have  just  the  same  thing 
at  home.  There  was  little  Annie  Hoff meyer. 
Her  Pa  was  a  carpenter  and  doing  well.   But 

198 


AS  TO  HUMAN  BEINGS 

Annie  couldn't  get  into  the  Kokomo  Ladies' 
Literary  Club  and  her  name  didn't  show  up  in 
the  society  column  four  or  five  times  every  Sun- 
day morning,  so  she  got  her  father  to  give  her 
the  money  to  marry  Willie  Seymour,  the  minis- 
ter's son — and  a  regular  minister's  son  he  was. 
I  don't  know  whether  she  told  old  Hoffmeyer 
it  was  a  settlement  or  not,  but  he  let  her  have 
her  way  and  went  into  debt  and  built  them  a 
nice  little  house  up  on  North  Elm  Street  and 
Annie  *  formed  her  alliance'  as  you  say  over 
here.  That  was  two  years  ago.  Annie's  work- 
ing at  the  depot  candy-stand  now  and  the  other 
half  of  the — the  alliance — is  working  at  the 
hotel  bar — in  front — drinking  up  what's  left 
of  old  Hoffmeyer's  settlement." 

"And  you  say  you  understand,"  replied  the 
indignant  girl — "you  who  couple  the  name  of 
a  tippling  yokel  with  that  of  a  St.  Aubyn,  a 
gentleman  of  distinction!" 

"Distinction?  I  didn't  know  he  was  dis- 
tinguished." 

199 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

The  girl  looked  at  him  pityingly.  "His  an- 
cestors have  fought  with  glory  on  every  field  of 
battle  from  Crecy  and  Agincourt  to  the 
Crimea,"  she  said  in  ringing  tones. 

"Yes,  but  you  won't  see  much  of  his  ances- 
tors." 

"He  bears  their  namel" 

"Yes,  and  it's  the  name  you  want.  Nobody 
could  look  at  you  and  not  know  it  wasn't  him. 
It's  the  name.  And  I'd  let  you  buy  it  if  it 
would  make  you  happy — if  you  didn't  have  to 
take  the  people  with  it." 

"The  ^people!'  "  The  girl  turned  from  him 
angrily. 

"Yes,  the  whole  gang.  Can't  you  see  how 
they're  counting  on  it?  It's  in  their  faces,  in 
their  ways!  This  Earl — don't  you  see  he  ex- 
pects to  live  on  you?  Do  you  think  the  son 
would  get  your  settlement?  Why,  a  Terra 
Hut'  pickpocket  could  get  it  away  from  him — 
let  alone  that  old  man  of  his!  What  do  you 
think  would  become  of  the  'settlement'?" 

200 


AS  TO  HUMAN  BEINGS 

She  controlled  herself  to  answer  him  stonily. 
"Part  of  it  would  go  to  the  restoration  of  Haw- 
castle  Hall  and  part  to  Glenwood  Priory." 

"Glenwood  Priory?" 

"That  is  a  part  of  the  estate  where  Almeric 
and  I  will  live  until  Lord  Hawcastle's  death." 

"Then  you  can  be  sure  mighty  little  of  that 
settlement  would  come  around  'Glenwood 
Priory.'  "  He  spoke  the  name  with  a  grim 
amusement.  "And  this  old  lady — this  Mrs. 
Creech  you've  been  travelling  with " 

"Lady  Creech!"  she  corrected  him  sharply. 

"All  right !  But  don't  you  think  she's  count- 
ing on  it?  And  this  French  lady  that's  with 
them — isn't  she  trying  to  land  your  brother? 
I  tell  you,  this  whole  crowd  is  on  the  track  of 
John  Simpson's  money." 

She  blazed  at  this.  "Silence!  You  have 
no  right  to  traduce  them.  Do  you  place  no 
value  upon  heredity,  upon  high  birth?" 

"Do  I?  Why,  I  think  so  much  of  it  that  I 
know  John  Simpson's  daughter  doesn't  need 

201 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

anybody  else's  to  help  her  out!"  He  regarded 
her  now  with  honest  admiration.  "She's  fine 
enough  and  I  think  she's  sweet  enough — and  I 
know  from  the  way  she  goes  for  me  that  she's 
brave  enough — to  stand  on  her  own  feet." 

Strangely  a  little  moved  despite  her  anger 
by  this  surprising  speech,  she  answered  some- 
what breathlessly,  "But  this  is  beside  the  point. 
I  know  exactly  what  I  want  in  life  and  I 
couldn't  change  it  now  if  it  were  otherwise.  I 
gave  Almeric  my  promise,  it  was  forever,  and 
I  shall  keep  it." 

"You  can't;  I'm  not  going  to  let  you." 

"I  throw  your  interference  to  the  winds.  I 
shall  absolutely  disregard  it.  I  shall  marry 
without  your  consent." 

Pike  grinned  as  he  demanded,  "Do  you  think 
they'd  let  you — ^without  the  settlement?" 

"I  think  you'll  let  me" — she  broke  off  to 
laugh  at  him — "especially  after  this  terrible 
letter." 

He  indicated  the  sheet  she  still  held.    "By 

202 


AS  TO  HUMAN  BEINGS 


the  vway,  are  you  sure  that  was  all  Jim  said — 
did  you  finish  it?" 

"I  think  so.  No — it  says  'over.' "  She 
turned  the  page,  attentively  conned  the  few 
lines  there  and  looked  up  at  Pike  with  some 
quick  almost  shy  astonishment. 

"Well,  read  the  rest  of  it,  won't  you?" 

"It  appears  to  concern  a  matter  quite  per- 
sonal to  yourself,"  she  rejoined  with  an  icy  ac- 
cession of  dignity.  She  placed  the  letter  in 
the  envelope  and  turned  as  if  to  leave.  "Please 
remember,"  she  added,  "I  have  not  read  any- 
thing on  the  last  page." 

"Well,  neither  have  I."  He  reached  for  the 
letter.  She  stepped  back,  then  dropped  it  at 
the  end  of  the  bench  almost  timidly.  Pike  se- 
cured it,  slowly  removing  the  letter  from  the 
envelope.  She  stared  at  him  with  breathless 
amazement.  For  the  moment  she  was  not  hos- 
tile. She  turned  again  as  if  to  go,  yet  hesi- 
tated. The  garden  glowed  red  now  in  the 
simset  light,  and  in  upon  their  moment's  em- 

203 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

barrassed  silence  came  the  song  of  men  beyond 
the  wall  accompanied  by  a  guitar,  mellow  and 
vibrant.    Together  they  listened  briefly. 

"Those  are  the  fishermen  coming  home»" 
volunteered  the  girl,  softly  human  under  the 
witchery  of  those  blending  voices. 

"It's  mighty  pretty,  but  it's  kind  of  foreign 
and  lonesome,  too,"  Pike  replied  with  a  sad 
little  chuckle.  "I'd  rather  hear  something  that 
sounded  more  like  home."  His  voice  grew  a 
bit  tremulous.  "I  expect  you've  about  forgot- 
ten everything  like  that,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  gently  enough. 

"It  seems  funny,  now,"  Pike  went  on,  "but 
out  on  the  ocean  coming  here  I  kept  kind  of 
looking  forward  to  hearing  you  sing — ^like  the 
fool  I  was,  I  kept  thinking  you  might  sing  for 
me  some  evening — 'Sweet  Genevieve'  maybe — 
you  know  that,  don't  you?" 

She  repeated  the  title,  reminiscently.  "I 
used  to,  I  think — ^but  it's  rather  old-fashioned 
and  common,  isn't  it?" 

204 


AS  TO  HUMAN  BEINGS 


"I  expect  so,"  he  admitted.  "Maybe  that's 
the  reason  I  like  it  so  much.  But  of  course  I 
know  now  I  can't  expect  you  to  sing  it  for  me." 

"We  were  both  disappointed."  She  had  an 
absurd  impulse  to  laugh  long  and  loud,  for  she 
suddenly  beheld  her  morning's  vision  of  the 
dear  old  Mr.  Pike  who  would  have  behaved  so 
differently.  "Yes,  it  was  hard  on  both  of  us," 
she  added.  He  made  no  reply;  seemed  not, 
indeed,  to  hear  her,  but  stared  blankly  ahead  of 
him.  A  long  moment  she  surveyed  him 
thoughtfully  as  he  seemed  to  dream  there  in 
the  deepening  twilight,  then  she  walked  slowly 
away.  Pike  was  recalled  to  himself  by  the 
slight  scuffing  of  her  steps  on  the  walk.  Slowly 
he  imf  olded  his  letter  to  the  last  page. 

I'm  sorry  [he  read]  that  old  man  Simpson's  daugh- 
ter thinks  of  buying  a  title.  Somehow  I  have  a  notion 
that  may  hit  you,  Dan.  I  haven't  forgotten  how  you 
always  kept  that  picture  of  her  on  your  desk.  And 
the  old  man  thought  so  much  of  you  I  had  an  idea 
he  hoped  she'd  come  back  some  day  and  marry  a 
man  from  home. 

205 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

"You  double-barrelled,  laminated  chump!" 
Thus  Pike  apostrophized  the  absent  James  G. 
Cooley.  "I  don't  wonder  she  said  she  hadn't 
read  it,"  he  mused.  Then  his  face  lighted  with 
a  most  radiant  amazement.  "But  she  had, 
and  she  didn't  go  away — that  is,  not  right 
away !" 

The  voice  of  Lord  Hawcastle  recalled  him 
from  far,  vast  surmises.  His  lordship  had  ap- 
proached briskly. 

"Mr.  Pike,  your  ward  tells  me  that  you  still 
remain  strangely  obdurate  in  a  certain  matter 
we  have  discussed." 

"I  don't  want  to  seem  rough  with  you,"  re- 
marked Pike  in  his  mildest  tone,  "but  I've 
meant  what  I  said." 

"Doubtless.  There  is,  however,  a  certain 
other  question " 

"I'll  talk  about  anything  else." 

"Excellent!"  His  lordship  seemed  strangely 
cheerful  and  allowed  his  next  words  to  fall  trip- 
pingly indeed  from  his  tongue.     "Late  this 

206 


AS  TO  HUMAN  BEINGS 

afternoon  I  developed  a  great  anxiety  concern- 
ing the  penalty  prescribed  by  Italian  law  for 
those  unfortunate  and  impulsive  individuals 
who  connive  at  the  escape  or  concealment  of — 
shall  we  say  of  certain  other  unfortunates  who 
may  be — let  us  put  it  quite  vulgarly — wanted 
by  the  police."  He  regarded  the  man  before 
him  keenly,  striving  to  read  his  face  in  the 
dusk. 

"So  you're  anxious  about  that,  are  you?" 
inquired  Pike  easily. 

"So  deeply  anxious  that  I  ascertained  the 
penalty  for  it.  You  may  confirm  my  informa- 
tion by  appealing  to  the  nearest  carabiniere 
just  outside  the  wall  there.  The  minimum 
penalty  for  one  whose  kind  heart  has  thus  be- 
trayed him  is  two  years'  imprisonment,  and 
Italian  prisons  I  am  credibly  informed  are  quite 
ferociously  unpleasant  places." 

"Being  in  jail  any  place  isn't  much  like  an 
Elks'  Carnival,"  observed  the  attentive  Mr. 
Pike. 

207 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"There  would  be  no  escape,  even  for  a  citizen 
of  your  admirable  country  if  his  complicity 
were  established,  especially  if  he  happened  to 
be — as  it  were — caught  in  the  act."  The 
speaker  glanced  significantly  over  his  shoulder. 
The  salon  of  Herr  von  GroUerhagen  was  now 
lighted  and  a  shadow  moved  across  its  drawn 
curtain.  Mr.  Pike  continued  to  stare  ahead  of 
him.  He  lighted  a  cigar,  still  staring.  As  the 
flame  of  the  match  blazed  up  it  was  seen  to  be 
a  meditative  stare.  Then  he  faced  the  Earl  of 
Hawcastle. 

"Talk  plain — talk  plain!"  he  admonished 
grimly. 

His  lordship  became  animated.  "My  dear 
young  friend,  imagine  that  a  badly  wanted  man 
appears  upon  the  pergola  there  and  makes  an 
appeal  of  I  know  not  what  nature  to  one  of 
your  fellow-countrymen  who — for  the  purpose 
of  illustration — is  at  work  upon  this  car.  Say 
that  the  too-amiable  American  conceals  this 
fugitive  under  the  car  and  afterward,  with  the 

208 


AS  TO  HUMAN  BEINGS 

connivance  of  a  friend,  deceives  the  officers  of 
the  law  and  shelters  the  criminal — for  example, 
in  a  room  of  that  lower  suite  yonder."  His 
voice  showed  now  a  trace  of  excitement  as  the 
shadow  of  a  man  rested  briefly  upon  the  cur- 
tain veiling  the  lighted  room.  "Imagine,"  he 
continued  swiftly,  "that  the  shadow  which  at 
this  moment  appears  on  that  curtain  were  the 
shadow  of  the  wanted  man — then  would  you 
not  agree  that  a  moderate  and  reasonable  re- 
quest made  to  this  countryman  of  yours  might 
be  acceded  to?" 

"What  would  be  the  nature  of  that  re- 
quest?" inquired  the  profoundly  interested 
Mr.  Pike. 

"It  would  concern  a  certain  alliance — it 
might  even  concern  a  certain  settlement." 

"If  the  request  were  refused  what  would  the 
consequences  be?" 

"But  I  have  already  indicated  them — I  had 
thought  not  too  subtly.  Two  years  at  least  for 
the  American  and  the  friend  who  had  been  his 

209 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

accessory.  Really,  I  should  f  ancjr  it  a  disas- 
trous situation." 

"Yes;  it  looks  like  it,"  conceded  Pike. 

"And  now,"  continued  the  other  with  sharp 
insistence,  "if  this  fellow-countryman  of  yours 
were  to  be  assured  that  the  law  would  be  made 
to  take  its  course  if  a  favorable  answer  were  not 
received — say  by  ten  o'clock  tonight — ^what, 
in  your  opinion,  would  his  answer  be?"  The 
manner  of  his  lordship  conveyed  that  there 
could  be  but  one  answer  under  these  distress- 
ing circumstances.  His  face  was  lighted  with 
a  relishing  smile  of  assurance. 

"Well,"  began  Pike  plaintively,  "it  would 
all  depend  on  just  which  one  of  my  country- 
men you  caught — ^you  know  there  are  such  a 
lot  of  us.  Now  if  it  depended  on  the  one  I 
know  most  about — why  he'd  tell  you  he'd  see 
you  in  hell  first."  He  straightly  regarded  the 
Earl  of  Hawcastle. 

The  light  died  all  at  once  from  his  lordship's 
smile.    Now  his  mouth  was  merely  distorted. 

210 


CHAPTER  X 

HERB  VON  GROLLERHAGEN  SAVES  HIMSELF 

In  the  dimly  lit  saloon  of  Herr  von  Groller- 
hagen  Pike  sat  where  he  could  survey  through 
the  open  double  doors  a  briUiantly  lighted  con- 
servatory and  hall  beyond.  The  unseen 
orchestra  rendered  an  aria  from  "Paghacci** 
that  admirably  portrayed  his  dejection  as 
through  the  fronds  of  palm  and  blossoming 
oleanders  he  beheld  a  group  of  people  at  two 
small  tables  being  served  by  Mariano  iwith 
their  after-dinner  coffee.  Horace,  resplendent 
in  evening  dress,  conversed  tenderly  with  the 
laughing  Comtesse  de  Champigny.  The 
Honorable  Almeric  appeared  to  be  slightly 
more  bored  then  usual,  this  perhaps  because  of 
the  cloud  of  troubled  abstraction  under  which 

211 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

Miss  Ethel  Simpson  seemed  to  be  laboring. 
The  girl  had  refused  coffee  and  sat  with  bent 
head  and  an  empty  gaze,  unconscious  even  of 
her  prettiest  evening  frock  now  in  its  first 
wearing.  Lady  Creech,  stately  in  black  velvet 
and  lace,  was  also  absorbed,  though  she  glared 
indignantly  about  her  from  time  to  time  and 
showed  a  growing  impatience  apparently  with 
the  world  at  large.  The  Honorable  Almeric 
yawned  and  accused  the  girl  of  "thinkin'  a 
bit."  He  had  already  remarked  this  curious 
weakness  of  hers.  She  denied  it  now,  though 
with  barely  a  glance  at  her  accuser  and  with- 
out her  wonted  smile.  Undoubtedly  she  was 
thinking  a  bit;  thinking  of  that  curious  young 
man  she  so  detested  and  who  had  yet  produced 
in  her  so  profound  a  sensation  of  doubt.  The 
doubt  brought  her  great  discomfort  because 
she  was  unable  to  analyze  it.  Certainly  it  was 
not  doubt  of  herself  nor  the  Honorable 
Almeric,  though  curiously  in  spite  of  herself 
she  would  find  her  eyes  now  and  then  upon 

212 


GROLLERHAGEN  SAVES  HIMSELF 

him  with  a  sort  of  questioning  and  appraisal 
that  was  ahnost  cool.  Nor  could  it  be  doubt 
of  those  "nobler  things"  for  which  she  was 
striving.  It  was  doubt  that  kept  coming  to 
trouble  her  and  that  would  not  unmask  itself. 

Pike  from  his  obscurity  kept  sharp  eyes  on 
the  group.  Beneath  his  greater  trouble  he  was 
calling  himself  an  imbecile  for  not  having 
brought  his  own  "dress  suit."  He  hadn't 
realized  that  people  would  don  such  clothes 
without  the  provocation  of  those  ceremonious 
affairs  that  evoked  them  in  his  home  town. 
But  it  seemed  they  wore  them  here  as  a  mere 
matter  of  daily  routine  ...  He  again  called 
himself  an  imbecile,  this  time  for  dwelling 
upon  minor  trifles  at  such  a  moment.  He 
looked  at  his  watch  and  began  impatiently  to 
pace  back  and  forth  over  the  soft  carpet. 

At  last  he  halted  and  breathed  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief. Down  the  hall,  through  flowering  shrubs, 
his  eye  had  caught  the  tall  figure  of  Herr  von 
GroUerhagen  making  a  stately  way  toward 

213 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

his  door.  His  valet,  preceding  him,  entered 
the  salon,  flooded  it  with  light  and  stood  alert 
at  the  doorway.  Ribiere  quickly  appeared 
from  an  inner  chamber  at  the  valet's  ring,  and 
he,  too,  stood  alert.  The  German  entered.  He 
was  in  evening  dress,  rather  overwhelmingly 
so  to  Pike's  first  glance.  His  overcoat  was  a 
smnptuous  thing  of  sables,  loosely  worn  and 
revealing  an  order-ribbon  at  the  lapel  of  his 
dress-coat.  The  waiting  valet  took  the  over- 
coat, the  dazzling  hat,  and  the  swiftly  removed 
white  gloves.  Ribiere  approached  his  em- 
ployer discreetly  when  the  valet  had  gone. 

"You  have  telegraphed  for  the  informa- 
tion?" asked  the  German. 

"But  perfectly,  monsieur,"  answered  Rib- 
iere and  followed  the  valet. 

Pike  advanced  at  the  conclusion  of  these 
ceremonies.  "I'm  mighty  glad  you've  come. 
Doc — I've  been  waiting  for  you." 

"I  have  dined  with  an  old  tutor  of  mine. 
Once  every  year  I  come  here  to  do  that,"  ex- 

214 


GROLLERHAGEN  SAFES  HIMSELF 

plained  the  other.  The  valet  had  returned 
with  a  tray  containing  vodka  and  cigarettes 
which  he  placed  on  a  convenient  table,  with- 
drawing again.  The  German  seated  himself 
at  the  table,  poured  himself  a  modest  draft  of 
the  spirit  and  lighted  a  cigarette.  Pike  after 
a  final  survey  of  the  group  in  the  hall  beyond 
went  to  the  doors  and  carefully  closed  them. 

"And  you?"  inquired  the  German.  "I  sup- 
pose you  dined  with  the  charming  young  lady, 
your  ward,  and  her  brother,  as  you  expected." 

**No — you  see  they  have  friends  of  their 
own  here  and " 

"So  I  have  observed."  The  speaker  sipped 
from  his  glass. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mind  tHeir  not  asking  me,"  in- 
sisted Pike  with  a  fine  assumption  of  cheerful- 
ness. "The  fact  is,  these  friends  of  hers  are 
trying  to  get  me  to  do  something  I  can't 
do " 

"You  need  not  tell  me  that,  my  friend.  I 
have  both  eyes  and  ears;  I  understand." 

215 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

Pike  came  to  the  table  now  in  frank  distress. 
"Well,  I  wish  you  understood  the  rest,  because 
it  isn't  easy  for  me  to  tell  you.  Doc,  look  here, 
I'm  afraid  I've  got  you  into  a  pretty  bad  hole." 

"Ah!  That,  I  fear,  I  do  not  understand." 
The  speaker  seemed  to  be  more  curious  than 
alarmed. 

"I'm  afraid  I  have,"  continued  Pike  re- 
morsefully. "You  and  that  Ivanoff  in  there — 
poor  devil — and  me — all  three  of  us.  You 
see,  this  Hawcastle  knows,  and  he  knows  it  as 
well  as  I  know  you're  sitting  in  that  chair, 
that  we've  got  that  poor  fellow  in  there — right 
in  that  room." 

"But  surely  you  can  trust  Lord  Hawcastle 
not  to  mention  our  little  affair.  This  gentle- 
man must  know  that  the  consequences  for  you 
as  well  as  for  me  would  be,  to  say  the  least, 
embarrassing.  Surely  you  made  that  clear  to 
him." 

Pike  grinned  ruefully.  "No;  he  made  it 
clear  to  me.    Two  years  in  jail  is  the  minimum, 

216 


GROLLERHAGEN  SAFES  HIMSELF 

and  if  I  don't  make  up  my  mind  by  ten  o'clock 
to  do  what  he  wants  me  to  do — " 

"What  does  he  want  you  to  do?"  asked  the 
German  quickly  as  he  looked  at  his  watch. 

"You  see,  that  young  lady's  father  trusted 
me  to  look  after  her,  and  if  I  won't  promise  to 
let  her  pay  seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars  for — that — well,  you've  seen  it  around 
here  today,  haven't  you?" 

"I  have  indeed  observed — it — if  you  refer 
to  the  sprightly  son  of  Lord  Hawcastle." 

"Well;  if  I  don't  consent  to  do  that  I  reckon 
Ivanoff  has  to  go  back  to  Siberia  and  you  and 
I  to  one  of  these  ItaUan  jails." 

"He  threatens  that!" 

"Oh,  he'll  do  it  all  right!  It  isn't  only  a 
threat." 

"And  what  do  you  mean  to  do?"  The  other 
regarded  him  sharply. 

"There  wouldn't  be  any  trouble  about  that," 
said  the  distressed  Pike,  "if  it  was  only  me. 
That  would  be  too  easy.    They  could  land  me 

217 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

for  two  years — "  He  swallowed  with  difB- 
culty — "or  for  twenty  years.  What  makes  it 
so  hard  is  that  I  can't  do  what  they  want  even 
to  get  you  and  Ivanoff  out  of  the  hole.  You 
see,  it  ain't  my  money.  About  all  I  can  do. 
Doc,  is  to  ask  you  to  forgive  me  for  taking 
that  fellow  in  the  way  I  did,  and  to  warn  you 
to  get  away  before  they  come  down  on  me. 
This  Englishman's  got  me.  Doc.  Don't 
you  see  how  it  stands?  Ivanhoff  can't  get 
away " 

"No;  I  think  he  can't." 

"They've  got  this  militia  all  around  the 
place." 

"I  passed  through  a  cordon  of  the  cara- 
biniere  as  I  came  in,"  said  the  German 
musingly. 

"But  you  could  get  away.  Doc."  Pike  be- 
came urgent.  "Up  to  ten  o'clock  you  can 
come  and  go  just  as  you  like." 

The  German  arose,  plainly  animated  by  this 
thought.     "But  so  might  you  come  and  go 

218 


GROLLERHAGEN  SAVES  HIMSELF 

until  ten  o'clock.  You  have  not  thought  of 
that." 

"No  and  I  won't  think  of  it,"  declared  the 
other  stoutly.    **But  as  for  you " 

"As  for  me — "  The  other  debated  a  moment 
then  cheerfully  concluded,  "I  shall  go." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Pike.  "That's  part  of 
the  load  off  my  mind.  I  can't  bear  to  think  of 
the  rest  of  it.  I  haven't  known  how  to  tell  that 
poor  cuss  in  there." 

"So?"  The  German  had  donned  the  coat  of 
sables  and  taken  hat  and  gloves  from  the  valet 
who  had  brought  them.  "Call  our  friend 
yonder,"  he  directed  the  latter.  Ivanoff  ap- 
peared to  the  summons.  Very  pale  and 
haggard  he  was,  though  shaven  now  and  clad 
in  garments  that  at  least  told  of  no  hurried 
flight.  He  entered  the  salon  slowly,  and 
quietly  stood  before  them,  head  and  shoulders 
towed,  body  drooping.     The  German  spoke. 

"Ivanoff,  some  unexpected  difficulties  have 
arisen.     Your  presence   here   has   been   dis- 

219 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

covered  by  persons  who  wish  evil  to  this  gentle- 
man who  has  protected  you.  He  can  do 
nothing  further  to  save  you  unless  he  betrays 
a  trust  that  has  been  left  to  him." 

The  Russian  clutched  his  throat  with  a 
strangling  gesture  and  looked  pitifully  from 
the  speaker  to  Pike.  The  latter  came  to  stand 
before  him  humbly. 

"It's  the  truth,  old  man.  I  can't  do  what 
they  want  me  to,  even  to  save  you." 

The  other  bowed  his  head  once  more.  "Then 
I  thank  you  for  what  you  tried  to  do,"  he  said 
in  a  scarce  audible  voice. 

"You  have  until  ten  o'clock,"  suggested  the 
cheerful  German;  "meantime  my  American 
friend  believes  Naples  to  be  a  safer  place  for 
me.  And  so,  auf  wiedersehn^  gentlemen!" 
He  stepped  lightly  to  the  door. 

Pike  followed  quickly  and  grasped  his  hand. 

"Good-bye,  Doc,  and  God  bless  you!" 

"To  our  next  meeting,  my  friend,"  said  the 
still  cheerful  German,  and  was  gone. 

220 


GROLLERHAGEN  SAVES  HIMSELF 

Pike  turned  from  closing  the  door  after  him 
to  be  amazed  by  a  singular  change  in  the 
manner  of  the  fugitive.  Throwing  his  head 
up  he  went  rapidly  to  the  table,  examined  the 
cigarettes  in  their  silver  box  and  significantly 
touched  the  bottle  of  vodka.  "Ah,  I  thought 
so,"  he  gasped. 

"Thought  what?"  demanded  the  amazed 
Pike. 

"Russian!  That  man,  your  friend,  who  calls 
himself  von  GroUerhagen,  he  is  a  Russian. 
Not  only  that — he  is  a  Russian  noble.  Oh,  I 
see  it  in  a  hundred  ways  that  you  cannot — ^his 
appearance,  his  voice,  his  manner  of  address- 
ing me  just  now." 

Pike  seemed  unable  to  share  the  dismay  that 
this  suspicion  apparently  aroused  in  the 
breast  of  his  charge.  "Whatever  he  is,  didn't 
he  help  us  this  afternoon.  I'd  trust  that  man 
to  the  bone." 

"You  don't  know  what  it  means.  Perhaps 
he  helped  me  but  to  make  sure  I  should  not 

221 


THE  MAN   FROM  HOME 

further  escape.  His  men  have  watched  me 
every  moment  since  I  came  here.  A  thousand 
times  since  I  entered  this  room  I  have  felt  it 
!was  inevitable  that  I  should  go  back  to 
Siberia."  He  fell  weakly  into  a  chair  and 
bowed  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"I  know  you  feel  mighty  bad  and  I  don't 
blame  you,  but  perhaps — perhaps " 

"There  is  no  perhaps  for  me,"  muttered  the 
other.  "I  look  back,  and  there  never  was  any 
perhaps  after  I  met  Helene." 

Pike's  hand  went  to  his  head.  Thought- 
fully he  rumpled  then  smoothed  his  hair. 
"Helene!"  he  repeated  absently. 

"Helene  was  my  wife;  she  who  sent  me  to 
Siberia — she  and  my  dear,  accursed  English 
friend." 

"What  was  his  name?"  demanded  the  other, 
still  thoughtful. 

"His  name — it  was  Glenwood.  I  shall  not 
forget  that  name  soon." 

"What  was  he  doing  in  Russia?" 

222 


GROLLERHAGEN  SAVES  HIMSELF 

"I  have  told  you;  he  had  contracts — he  sup- 
plied hydraulic  machinery  to  the  Govern- 
ment." He  looked  up  in  quick  hope.  "Does 
the  name  Glenwood  mean  anything  to  you? 
Tell  me,  have  you  heard  that  name?" 

Pike  frowned  thoughtfully  but  a  moment 
longer.  "No,  I  don't  know  any  Glenwood." 
He  added  to  himself,  "And  there  must  be  a 
million  Helenes  in  France." 

The  other  bowed  his  head  again.  "Oh,  I  did 
pray  God  to  let  me  meet  them  before  I  was 
taken.^'  He  sat  up  again  with  an  effort  to 
throw  off  the  pain.  "But  I  talk  too  much  of 
myself.  I  wish  to  know — you — you  will  be 
safe,  yes?" 

"Oh,  I'll  be  fine,"  rejoined  Pike  with  a  lift- 
ing cheerfulness.  "Don't  you  worry  about  me. 
"Why,  I'll — "  He  was  interrupted  by  a 
quick  knock  at  the  door. 

"The  carabiniere — ^they  have  come,"  gasped 
Ivanoff. 

"Steady!"  warned  Pike.  He  looked  at  his 
223 


THE  MAN   FROM   HOME 

watch.  "They  won't  come  before  ten,  and  we 
have  a  good  hour  yet.  You  go  back  into  that 
room.  Just  remember,  we  don't  throw  our 
hands  into  the  discard  until  we're  called.  We 
keep  on  raising  every  time.  Understand?" 
With  a  hand  on  his  shoulder  he  almost  thrust 
the  Russian  into  the  adjoining  room  and 
pulled  the  door  quickly  to.  Regaining  the 
center  of  the  room  he  paused  a  moment  to 
again  rumple  and  smooth  his  hair.  "Helene !" 
he  muttered.  He  glanced  up  as  the  knocking 
was  repeated. 

"Come  in!"  he  called. 


^ 


CHAPTER  XI 

ME.  PIKE  CROSS-EXAMINES 

The  door  opened  upon  Mariano  who  stood 
bowing  upon  its  threshold. 

"Pardon,  signore!  Miladi  Creesh — she  ask 
would  you  speak  to  her  but  a  few  minutes." 

Pike  relaxed  wearily  from  a  certain  expect- 
ancy he  had  felt.  "All  right,  all  right,"  he 
assented  dully,  "where  is  she?" 

Mariano  seemed  to  erase  himself  from  the 
doorway.  In  his  place  appeared  Lady  Creech. 
She  glared  briefly  at  Pike,  then  swept  formid- 
ably to  the  room's  center. 

"Come  right  in,  ma'am,"  urged  Pike,  a 
faint  note  of  distrust  sounding  through  the 
phrase.  Lady  Creech  stiffened  into  an  arm- 
chair and  began  with  a  frigid  aloofness  as  if 

225 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

the  person  she  addressed  could  not  be  recog- 
nized under  any  circumstances. 

"I  need  scarcely  inform  you  that  this  inter- 
view is  not  of  my  seeking.  Quite  the  contrary. 
It  is  intensely  disagreeable  to  me.  But  my 
brother-in-law  feels  that  someone  well  ac- 
quainted with  Miss  Granger-Simpson's  ideals 
and  her  inner  nature  should  put  the  case 
finally  to  you  before  we  proceed  to  the  extreme 
measures  my  brother-in-law  has  determined 
upon." 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Pike  patiently. 

"And  don't  mumble  your  words  if  you  ex- 
pect me  to  listen  to  you."  warned  Lady  Creech 
indignantly. 

"Go  on,  ma'am!"  Pike  was  loudly  cordial. 

"My  brother-in-law  has  made  us  aware  of 
the  present  state  of  affairs  and  I  need  not  say 
that  we  are  quite  in  sympathy  with  my  brother- 
in-law's  attitude  as  to  what  should  be  done  to 

you." 

"Yes,  ma'am,  and  what  do  you  think  ought 

226 


MR.   PIKE   CROSS-EXAMINES 

to  be  done  to  me?"  This  was  in  a  tone  of 
genial  inquiry. 

"If  in  the  kindness  of  our  hearts  we  condone 
your  offense  we  insist  upon  your  accession  to 
our  reasonable  demands."  The  speaker  wore 
the  impressive  manner  of  an  ambassador  de- 
livering an  ultimatum. 

"By  ten  o'clock?"  queried  Pike,  a  bit  sar- 
donically. 

"Quite  so!"  Lady  Creech  shut  her  lips  firmly 
on  the  words. 

"You  say  your  brother-in-law  has  told  all 
of  you.    Has  he  told  Miss  Ethel?" 

Lady  Creech  moved  her  head  ever  so 
slightly.  "It  has  not  been  thought  proper." 
Her  tone  took  on  the  flavor  of  an  informing 
rebuke.  "Young  girls  should  be  shielded  from 
everything  disagreeable."  • 

"Yes,  ma  am!"  Pike's  agreement  to  this  was 
hearty.  "That's  the  idea  that  got  me  into  this 
trouble." 

"I  say,"  continued  the  ambassadress  aus- 
227 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

terely,  "that  this  young  lady  who  seems  by 
some  absurd  technicality  to  be  your  ward  is 
considered  by  all  of  us  who  understand  her, 
and  by  herself  as  well,  to  be  infinitely  more 
my  ward." 

"Go  on,  ma'am,"  urged  the  attentive  Pike. 

"She  came  to  me  something  more  than  a 
year  ago " 

"Did  you  advertise?" 

Lady  Creech  winced  and  for  the  first  time 
during  the  interview  condescended  to  glance 
at  the  questioner.  The  glance,  however,  was 
meant  to  be  withering.  "I  suppose  it  is  your 
intention  to  be  offensive." 

The  other  protested  mildly  but  earnestly. 
"No,  ma'am;  I  didn't  mean  anything  by  that. 
Eut  you  see  I've  handled  all  her  accounts,  and 
her  payments  to  you " 

Lady  Creech  became  superbly  crushing  as 
she  slightly  raised  a  hand  to  stem  this  embar- 
rassing flow.  "We  will  omit  all  tradesmanlike 
references,  if  you  please.    What  Lord  Haw- 

228 


MR.   PIKE   CROSS-EXAMINES 

castle  wished  me  to  impress  upon  you  is  not 
only  that  you  will  ruin  yourself  but  that  you 
will  put  a  blight  upon  the  life  of  the  young 
person  whom  you  are  pleased  to  consider — " 
she  permitted  herself  something  very  like  a 
titter  of  scorn.  " — your  ward.  Remember  she 
has  studied  under  my  instruction  deportment, 
manners,  ideals,  which  have  lifted  her  above 
the  American  circumstance  of  her  birth.  She 
has  ambitions.  If  you  stand  in  the  way  of 
them  she  will  wither.  She  will  die  like  a  caged 
bird.  All  that  was  sordid  about  her  parent- 
age she  has  cast  off — "  Lady  Creech  paused 
for  an  able  summing  up.  "We  have  thought," 
she  concluded,  "that  we  might  make  some- 
thing of  her." 

"Yes  ma'am;  make  something  out  of  her — 
I  see!" 

"Something  of  her,"  corrected  the  other 
quickly.  "Something  better  of  her.  We  offer 
her  this  alliance  with  a  family  that  for  seven 

hundred  years " 

229 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

Pike  wearily  raised  a  hand  of  his  own. 
"Yes,  ma'am,  I  know — Creey  and  Agincourt!" 
He  seemed  to  have  learned  when  it  was 
coming. 

"With  a  family,"  continued  Lady  Creech 
proudly,  "that  has  never  been  sullied  by  those 
low  ideals  of  barter  and  exchange  which  seem 
to  be  the  governing  ideals  of  your  own  weird 
countrymen." 

"Sullied — seven  hundred  years!"  Pike  was 
fumbling  in  a  pocket  of  his  coat.  "Why,  look 
here,  Mrs.  Creech " 

Lady  Creech  shuddered  poignantly,  half 
arose  from  her  chair  at  this  affront,  then  sank 
resignedly  back.  The  unconscious  Pike  con- 
tinued : 

"I've  got  a  letter  right  here  that  tells  me 
your  brother-in-law  was  once  in  business — and 
I  respect  him  for  it — only  a  few  years  ago." 

"A  letter  from  whom?" 

"Why,  from  Jim  Cooley,  our  vice-consul  at 
London.     Jim  isn't  the  wisest  man  in  the 

230 


MR,   PIKE   CROSS-EXAMINES 

world,  but  he  seems  to  have  this  right,  and  he 
says  that  Mr.  Hawcastle " 

This  was  beyond  endurance.  Lady  Creech 
exploded.    "Mr.  Hawcastle!" 

Pike  grinned  at  her  in  friendly  embarrass- 
ment. "Well,"  he  continued  placatingly,  "I 
can  call  a  person  Colonel  or  Cap  or  Doc  or 
anything  of  that  kind  but  I  just  plain  don't 
know  how  to  use  the  kind  of  words  you  have 
over  here  for  that  sort  of  thing " 

"That  sort  of  thingT  repeated  the  other 
shudderingly. 

"Just  let  me  run  on  in  my  own  way.  I'm 
not  meaning  at  all  to  hurt  your  feelings.  But 
when  you  talked  about  low  ideals  of  barter 
and  exchange — anyway,  isn't  Jim  Cooley 
right?  He  says  your  brother-in-law  was  in 
business  in  Russia — "  Mr.  Pike  here  paused 
curiously.  It  was  as  if  the  sound  of  his  own 
voice  had  startled  him  to  some  new  thought. 
"In  business  in  Russia — "  he  repeated  slowly, 
meditatively. 

2S1 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"This  is  quite  beside  the  point,"  expostu- 
lated his  listener. 

Mr.  Pike  had  become  almost  bland.  At 
least  he  beamed  amiably  upon  his  guest. 

"But  it  is  the  point,  when  you  boast  your 
superiority  to  our  low  tradesmen  ideals.  You 
offer  my  ward  an  alliance  with  a  family  that 
you  say  has  never  been  sullied  by  trade  and 
now  I  discover  that  a  prominent  member  of  it 
once  actually  worked  for  his  living.  And  be- 
tween us,  now,  isn't  Jim  right.  Isn't  that  the 
truth?" 

Guilt  was  expressed  in  the  very  anger  of 
Lady  Creech's  retort;  she  must  confess 
the  scandal.  "Since  some  of  your  vulgar 
American  officials  have  been  spying  about — " 
she  desperately  muttered. 

Pike's  glance  had  quickened  strangely.  He 
leaned  upon  the  back  of  a  chair  to  survey  the 
lady  with  a  sort  of  eager  cordiality. 

"Well,  so  far  so  good.  Your  brother-in-law 
was  in  business  in  Russia.    Of  course  I  don't 

232 


MR.   PIKE   CROSS-EXAMINES 

say  it  was  peddling  shoe-strings  on  the  corner 
or  selling  frankfurters " 

A  slight  but  eloquent  scream  of  indignation 
marked  this  brutality. 

"No  doubt  something  more  dignified  than 
that,"  continued  the  affable  Mr.  Pike.  "Prob- 
ably he  was  the  agent  for  a  wooden  butter-dish 
factory — something  of  that  kind." 

Lady  Creech  was  stung  to  explanation. 
"He  had  contracts  with  the  Russian  govern- 
ment itself,"  she  proclaimed,  as  if  this  might 
now  and  then  be  condoned  even  in  a  St.  Aubyn. 

The  eyes  of  Mr.  Pike  for  a  moment  blinked 
rapidly,  yet  he  smoothly  and  quickly  con- 
trolled whatever  agitation  he  might  have  felt. 

"Not,"  he  inquired  most  casually,  "not  for 
mining — for  hydraulic  machinery?" 

The  witness  bridled  but  did  not  deny  this 
imputation. 

"And  even  so,"  she  haughtily  rejoined,  "he 
protected  the  historic  name  of  St.  Aubyn." 

Mr.  Pike  instinctively  tightened  his  grasp 

233 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

on  the  chair  back  before  hun.  The  lean, 
freckled  hands  were  now  rosy  indeed.  "By 
God,  I  beheve  you!" 

"Don't  mumble  your  words,"  warned  Lady 
Creech,  having  for  once  a  genuine  grievance. 
Pike  had  not  mumbled  the  words,  yet  he  had 
uttered  them  in  his  lowest  tone.  Now  again, 
however,  except  for  the  tightly  clenched  hands, 
he  appeared  to  be  but  the  friendly  inquirer. 

"Had  your  brother-in-law  ever  lived  at 
Glenwood  Priory?" 

The  lady  showed  herself  both  indignant  and 
puzzled.  "Is  your  mind  wandering?  The 
Priory  belonged  to  Hawcastle's  mother.  Can 
you  state  its  connection  with  our  subject?" 

"Why,  of  course — "  the  speaker  was  blandly 
ingratiating.  "That's  how  he  protected  the 
historic  name  of  St.  Aubyn — ^that's  the  very 
name  he  took — Glenwood!" 

"And  what  of  that?"  The  manner  of  Lady 
Creech  indicated  that  she  had  borne  all  that 
one  of  her  position  might  be  expected  to  bear. 

234 


MR.   PIKE   CROSS-EXAMINES 

"God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way  his 
wonders  to  perform,"  answered  her  inter- 
locutor, suddenly  awe-struck. 

"Oblige  me  by  omitting  blasphemous 
allusions  in  my  presence,"  requested  the  other 
icily.  She  arose.  "What  answer  are  you  pre- 
pared to  make  to  Lord  Hawcastle?" 

Pike,  alertly  poised  by  his  chair,  seemed  not 
at  first  to  hear  her.  He  turned  at  last.  "Tell 
your  brother-in-law  he  can  have  my  answer 
in  ten  minutes ;  he  can  come  to  me  here  for  it. 
I'll  give  it  in  the  presence  of  the  young  lady 
and  her  brother." 

Lady  Creech  swept  to  the  door.  "Her 
brother — certainly.  He  is  in  perfect  sympathy 
with  our  attitude.  As  for  Miss  Granger- 
Simpson  knowing  anything  of  this  most 
shocking  affair — no!" 

"No?"  inquired  Pike  mildly. 

"I  shall  not  permit  her  to  come  near  here. 
As  her  chaperone,  I  refuse.  We — ^we  all 
refuse." 

285 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"I'm  disappointed,"  said  Pike,  still  more 
mildly. 

"I  shall  tell  Lord  Haweastle " 

"Ten  minutes  from  now  and  in  this  room." 
"But  Miss  Granger-Simpson  on  no  con- 
dition whatever,"  concluded  her  ladyship  as 
she  swept  past  the  door  Pike  opened  for  her. 
For  a  short  second  he  stood  with  his  back  to 
the  door,  a  second  for  quick  thought.  Then  he 
touched  an  electric  button  beside  the  door  and 
sat  at  the  nearby  desk  where  he  wrote  hur- 
riedly on  a  half -sheet  of  paper.  He  was  in- 
closing this  in  an  envelope  when  Mariano 
knocked.  He  sealed  and  addressed  the  envelope 
as  Mariano  entered  to  his  summons. 

"Mariano,  I  want  you  to  take  this  note  to 
Miss  Simpson." 

Mariano,  ever  punctilious,  wished  to  be  told 
if  it  would  be  Miss  Granger-Seempsone. 
"Yes;  do  you  know  where  she  is?" 
"But  now  I  see  her  walk  on  the  terrace 
alone." 

236 


MR,   PIKE   CROSS-EXAMINES 

"Give  it  to  her  yourself — to  no  one  else, 
mind — and  do  it  now." 

"At  once,  signore!" 

As  the  door  closed  upon  his  messenger  Pike 
strode  to  the  door  that  had  lately  shut  upon 
the  Russian. 

"Ivanoff!"  he  called.  The  fugitive  ap- 
peared, looking  about  the  room  in  quick  appre- 
hension. 

"Have  they  come?"  he  whispered. 

"Not  yet."  Pike  meditated  briefly.  "Ivan-' 
off,  you  prayed  to  see  your  wife  and  your 
friend  Glenwood  before  you  went  back  to 
Siberia." 

The  Russian  fell  back,  clutching  his  throat 
as  if  he  would  strangle  the  cry  there. 

"If  that  prayer  is  answered  through  me," 
continued  the  other,  "will  you  promise  to  keep 
cool — and  remember  it's  my  fight?" 

"Ah — ^you  wish  to  play  with  me!"  It  was 
scarce  more  than  a  whimper. 

"Do  I  look  playful?" 

237 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

The  response  of  the  Russian  was  broken  by 
a  bugle  that  sounded  sharply  outside  the 
window.  "The  carabiniere,"  he  cried — "for 
me!"  They  rushed  to  the  window  that  gave 
upon  the  street. 

"Don't  show  yourself,"  warned  Pike  as  he 
cautiously  drew  aside  the  heavy  curtain.  The 
Russian  craned  to  peer  over  his  shoulder. 
"Look,"  he  whispered.  "Near  the  lamp 
yonder — there  by  the  doors — ^the  carabiniere." 

"They've  been  there  since  this  afternoon," 
remarked  Pike  easily,  then,  struck  by  a  move- 
ment in  the  group,  he  exclaimed,  "But  look 
there — who  on  earth — who's  that  they've  got 
with  them?    Why,  good  Lord,  it's  Doc!" 

"Did  I  not  tell  you,"  retorted  the  other 
sharply,  "that  he  was  a  Russian?  He  has  be- 
trayed me  himself.  He  was  not  satisfied  that 
others  should.  I  knew  that  here  I  was  in  the 
wolf's  throat." 

"Don't  you  believe  it,"  insisted  Pike,  "They 
got  him  as  he  went  out."     He  concluded  with 

238 


MR.   PIKE   CROSS'EXjIMINES 

tfie  profoimdest  pity,  "They've  arrested  poor 
old  Doer 

"But  no;  see,  they  speak  respectfully  to 
him;  they  bow  to  him " 

"Yes,"  rejoined  Pike  grimly,  "and  in  a 
minute  they'll  be  in  here  bowing  to  us.  That's 
probably  the  way  these  colonels  run  you  in. 
Now  you "  , 

There  was  a  sharp  knock  at  the  double 
doors.  Pike  urged  Ivanoff  rapidly  toward 
the  door  of  his  chamber.  "Now  you  remem- 
ber— wait  there  till  I  call  you — and  it's  my 
fight." 

The  Russian  turned  hysterically.  "You 
promise  that  before  I  am  taken  I  shall  see " 

Mariano  appeared.  He  had  knocked  twice ; 
he  had  been  told  to  hurry.  Mr.  Pike  seemed 
not  to  observe  him  but  continued  in  a  most 
domineering  manner  to  the  now  cowering 
IvanofiF.  " — And  don't  you  forget  what  I've 
been  telling  you — you  get  the  sand  out  of 
that  gear-box  the  first  thing  tomorrow  morn- 

239 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

ing  or  I'll  see  that  you  draw  your  last  pay 
Saturday  night.     Get  out,  now!" 

"Mees  Granger-Seempsone,"  announced 
Mariano  when  the  door  had  closed  upon  the 
meekly  retreating  figure  of  the  Russian. 

"All  right,  Mariano.  Have  her  come  in, 
please!" 


CHAPTER  XII 

UNSUSPECTED   ROMANCE   IN    THE   PAST   OF    HIS 
LORDSHIP 

The  girl  advanced  slowly  into  the  room. 
She  was  icy  of  manner  and  the  poise  of  her 
head  was  defiant,  yet  her  hands  worked  nerv- 
ously upon  the  note  that  had  summoned  her, 
crumpling  it — seeming  to  knead  it.  Pike's 
glance  at  her  was  wholly  impersonal;  for  the 
moment  she  was  not  a  girl  whose  photograph 
he  had  so  absurdly  cherished  but  a  mere  fig- 
ment of  the  law,  a  "ward"  and  no  more,  as  he 
himself  had  become  little  more  than  a  lawyer. 

"I'm  glad  you  took  my  note  the  right  way," 
he  said  quickly.  "I've  got  some  pretty  good 
reasons  for  not  leaving  this  room."  He  indi- 
cated a  chair. 

241 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

^'Your  note  seemed  so  extraordinarily  ur- 
gent," she  said,  sitting  rather  undecidedly. 
She  still  crumpled  the  note  with  her  two 
hands. 

"It  had  to  be,"  he  went  on  briskly.  "Some 
folks  who  want  to  see  me  are  coming  here,  and 
I  want  to  see  them — ^here.  They'd  have 
stopped  you  from  coming  if  they  could." 

Miss  Simpson  straightened  in  her  chair. 
"There  was  no  effort  to  prevent  me." 

"No;  I  didn't  give  them  time." 

"May  I  ask  to  whom  you  refer?" 

"Oh!" — his  hands  made  a  gesture  of  wide 
inclusion — "the  whole  kit  and  boodle  of  them." 

She  stiffened  again  with  offense.  "You  are 
inelegant,  Mr.  Pike!" 

"I  haven't  time  to  be  elegant,  even  if  I  knew 
how." 

"Do  you  mean  my  chaperone  would  disap- 
prove?" she  demanded. 

He  chuckled  grimly.  "I  shouldn't  be  sur- 
prised.   I  reckon  the  whole  fine  flower  of  Eu- 

242 


THE  PAST   OF  HIS   LORDSHIP 

rope  would  disapprove.  ^Disapprove !' — they'd 
sand-bag  you  to  keep  you  out  of  this  room." 

The  girl  arose  swiftly.  "Oh,  then  I  can't 
stay." 

Pike  stepped  alertly  between  her  and  the 
door  toward  which  she  had  moved.  There  was 
a  new  ring  of  dominance  in  his  voice.  "Yes 
you  can  and  you  will;  youVe  got  to!" 

"  'Got  to'!  I  shaU  notl"  She  braved  an- 
other step  toward  him. 

"I'm  your  guardian  and  you'll  do  as  I  say. 
You'll  obey  me  this  once  if  you  never  do 
again."  She  was  regarding  him  with  angry 
defiance  but  he  went  on  with  increased  deter- 
mination. "You'll  stay  here  while  I  talk  to 
these  people  and  you'll  stay  in  spite  of  any- 
thing they  say  or  do  to  make  you  go.  There ! 
That's  plain,  isn't  it?"  His  voice  had  risen 
slightly  and  after  a  survey  of  his  set  face  she 
turned  almost  timidly  back  to  her  chair.  "God 
knows  I  hate  to  talk  rough  to  you,"  he  went 
on  more  evenly.    "I  wouldn't  hurt  your  feel- 

243 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

ings  for  the  world,  but  it's  come  to  a  point 
where  I've  got  to  use  the  authority  I  have  over 

you." 

During  this  speech  she  had  surprisingly  been 
engaged  in  smoothing  out  the  note  she  had  so 
recently  crumpled,  but  now  she  flashed  defiance 
anew. 

"Authority — ^you  over  me?  Do  you  think 
for  one  moment " 

He  broke  in  upon  her  with  a  measured  al- 
most savage  grimness.  "You'll  stay  here  for 
the  next  twenty  minutes  if  I  have  to  make 
Crecy  and  Agincourt  look  like  a  Peace  Con- 
ference!" 

She  cowered  in  the  chair,  staring  up  at  him 
aghast.  Absently  her  hands  still  smoothed  the 
crumpled  note,  but  she  did  not  speak.  He  con- 
tinued in  tones  of  marked  sternness.  "You 
and  your  brother  have  soaked  up  a  society- 
column  notion  of  life  over  here ;  you're  like  old 
Pete  Delaney  of  Terre  Hut' — ^he  got  so  he'd 
drink  cold  tea  if  there  was  a  whisky  label  on 

244 


THE   PAST   OF   HIS   LORDSHIP 


the  bottle.  They've  fuddled  you  with  labels. 
It's  my  business  to  see  that  you  know  what 
kind  of  people  you're  dealing  with — and  I'm 
going  to  do  it,  don't  make  any  mistake  about 
that!" 

Her  lip  trembled  piteously.  "You're  bully- 
ing me!  I  don't  see  why  you  talk  so  brutally 
to  me." 

"Do  you  think  I'd  do  it  for  anything  but 
you — your 

"Oh,  you  are  odious — insufferable!" 

"Don't  you  think  I  know  just  how  you 
despise  me?"  He  was  humble  for  the  mo- 
ment, yet  stubborn  with  it. 

The  girl  continued  for  a  moment  her  uncon- 
scious smoothing  of  the  wrinkled  sheet,  then 
spoke,  her  eyes  down.  "I  do  not  despise  you; 
if  I  had  stayed  at  home  and  grown  up  there 
I  should  probably  have  been  a  provincial  young 
woman  playing— singing— *  Sweet  Genevieve' 
for  you  tonight.  But  my  life  has  not  been 
that,  and  you  have  humiliated  me  from  the 

245 


\  THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

moment  of  your  arrival.  You  have  made  me 
ashamed  both  of  you  and  of  myself.  And 
now  you  have  some  preposterous  plan  which 
will  shame  me  again — ^humihate  both  of  us 
once  more  before  my  friend,  these  gentle- 
folks  " 

She  was  interrupted  by  loud  calls  from  be- 
hind the  shut  door.  Pounding  rather  than 
knocking  resounded  there  and  the  voice  of 
Lady  Creech  in  agitation  was  heard  above  sev- 
eral others. 

"I  guess  the  gentlefolk  are  here,"  remarked 
Pike  in  a  voice  of  extreme  dryness.  Hereupon 
the  double  doors  were  very  frankly  thrown 
open  by  a  besieging  group,  and  Lady  Creech 
made  a  flustered  entrance,  followed  quickly  by 
the  Comtesse  de  Champigny,  Horace  and  the 
Honorable  Almeric.  All  appeared  to  be  pro- 
foundly shocked. 

"My  dear  child,"  sputtered  Lady  Creech, 
"what  are  you  doing  in  this  dreadful  place 
with  this  dreadful  person?"    Her  ladyship's 

246 


THE  PAST   OF   HIS  LORDSHIP 

rather  bony  nose  was  elevated  both  in  dis- 
paragement of  Pike  and  of  a  spacious  salon 
wliieh  was  really  not  dreadful  at  all  in  its  ap- 
pointments. 

JMadame  de  Champigny  in  a  very  pretty 
horror  echoed,  '^Les  convenances !,  my  dear 
child!"  with  the  air  of  one  who  has  ever  paid 
them  the  most  shrinking  deference. 

Even  the  Honorable  Almeric  allowed  it  to 
be  seen  that  he  regarded  this  as  indeed  going 
too  far.  "Oh,  I  say,  you  know,  really  Ethel, 
you  can't  stay  here,  you  know,  can  you?" 

The  expostulations  thus  far  had  been  rather 
ably  concerted,  but  their  intention  was  patent. 

Pike  faced  them  from  the  door.  "I'm  her 
guardian;  she's  here  by  my  authority — she'll 
stay  by  my  authority."  He  turned  quickly  to 
observe  the  smiling  entrance  of  the  Earl  of 
Hawcastle  who  bowed  sardonically  to  him. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Pike!"  The  greeting 
was  couched  in  his  lordship's  suavest  tones,  but 
the  American  most  uncouthly  ignored  it. 

247 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

Brother  Horace  now  intervened.  "Lord 
Hawcastle  will  you  insist  upon  Ethel's  leaving 
this  place  at  once?  It's  quite  on  the  cards  we 
shall  have  a  disagreeable  scene  here." 

His  lordship  smiled  most  amiably.  "I  see 
no  occasion  for  her  leaving,  really.  We  are 
here  simply  for  Mr.  Pike's  answer.  He  knows 
where  we  stand  and" — there  was  a  perceptible 
tightening  of  his  tone8 — "we  know  where  he 
stands." 

"I  reckon  you're  right  so  far."  Pike  smiled 
ever  so  faintly. 

"And  his  answer  will  be  yes,"  continued  the 
still  amiable  Earl. 

"You're  wrong  there,"  broke  in  Pike  with 
quiet  emphasis. 

His  lordship  appeared  to  take  thought. 
"Perhaps  you  are  right,  Mr.  Granger- Simp- 
son." He  quickly  regarded  Pike  and  became 
entirely  serious.  "Painful  things  may  be  done 
here  after  all.  Better  the  young  lady  were 
spared  them.    Take  your  sister  away." 

248 


THE  PAST   OF   HIS   LORDSHIP 

"By  all  means !  It  may  be  quite  rowdy,  you 
know."  The  Honorable  Almeric  tugged  nerv- 
ously at  his  mustache  and  also  regarded  the 
American  with  worried  eyes. 

"My  dear,  you  positively  must  go!"  Thus 
Lady  Creech.  Even  Mr.  Pike  had  never  been 
more  authoritative  in  manner. 

"Ethel,  I  command  you  to  go!"  The  voice 
of  Horace  came  near  to  breaking  under  the 
strain  of  this. 

The  troubled  girl  had  been  folding  and  re- 
folding the  sheet  her  nervous  hands  had  re- 
stored to  smoothness.  Carefully  she  placed  it 
on  the  arm  of  her  chair — as  if  this  were  some 
matter  of  importance — and  half  arose  with  a 
timid  glance  at  Pike. 

"Stay  right  where  you  are — don't  you 
move,"  commanded  the  imperious  Pike. 

"Oh,  I  say!"  This  was  a  heated  outburst 
from  the  Honorable  Almeric. 

"The  lynching  ruffian!"  cried  Lady  Creech. 

"Ethel,  do  you  mean  to  let  this  fellow  dic- 

249 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

tate  to  you?"     Horace    was    now    plaintive. 

The  dazed  girl  sank  back  into  her  chair.  She 
spoke  breathlessly,  rather  loudly,  as  if  resist- 
ance were  now  hopeless.  "But — ^lie  says  I 
mustr  Her  eyes  wavered  helplessly  to 
Pike  who  now  turned  to  the  Earl  of  Haw- 
castle. 

"You're  here  for  an  answer,  you  say?" 

"Yes!"  It  was  confident  enough,  though 
slightly  defensive  in  tone. 

"An  answer  to  what?" 

His  lordship  rather  painfully  resumed  his 
suavity.  "An  answer  to  our  request  that  you 
accede  to  the  wishes  of  this  young  lady." 

"And  if  I  don't,  what  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Tut,  tut!"  exclaimed  the  shocked  Earl  and 
was  seconded  instantly  by  an  equally  shocked 
chorus.  "Barbarian!"  rang  the  voice  of  Lady 
Creech.  "The  man  is  an  ApacheT  chanted 
the  Comtesse  de  Champigny,  and  the  voice  of 
Horace,  none  too  vibrant,  was  heard  to  com- 
mand, "Ethel,  you  must  go!" 

250 


THE   PAST   OF   HIS   LORDSHIP 


"Tell  her  what  you're  going  to  do  if  I  don't 
accede,"  insisted  the  relentless  Pike. 

"A  gentleman  would  spare  her  that,"  de- 
clared his  shocked  lordship. 

"I  won't!  Speak  out!  Why  do  you  come 
here  so  sure  of  the  answer  you  want?" 

"You  are  brutal,  Mr.  Pike!"  His  lordship 
swallowed  rather  desperately. 

"Don't  mumble  your  words !"  Lady  Creech 
bent  her  ablest  glare  upon  the  offender. 

"I  won't  mumble,"  Pike  assured  her.  "I'll 
make  it  even  plainer  than  you  like!" 

Horace  again  raised  a  voice  in  whose  timbre 
he  obviously  had  too  little  confidence.  "I  pro- 
test against  this!" 

"Throw  the  rotter  out  that  window!"  di- 
rected the  Honorable  Almeric,  thoughtfully 
moving  back  a  step  or  two  as  if  not  to  im- 
pede those  who  might  obey  him. 

Pike  caught  the  girl's  piteous  glance  and 
held  it.  "This  afternoon  I  tried  to  help  a  poor 
devil — a  broken-down  Russian  running  away 

251 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

from  Siberia  where  he'd  been  for  nine  years." 
The  girl's  eyes  were  eagerly  upon  his  now, 
and  all  her  attention  for  him.  "He  was  a  poor, 
weak  thing,  hounded  like  you've  seen  a  rat  in 
the  gutter  by  dogs  and  bootblacks.  Some  of 
your  friends  here — "  His  gesture  was  compre- 
hensive and  rather  blasting — "saw  us  bring 
him  into  this  apartment,  and  they  know  I've 
got  him  here  now.  And  if  I  don't  hand  you 
and  seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars 
of  the  money  John  Simpson  made,  over  to 
them  they're  going  to  act  on  their  knowledge. 
Do  you  know  what  that  means?  It  means  that 
the  man  I  tried  to  help  goes  back  to  rot  in 
Siberia  and  that  I  go  to  an  Italian  jail  for  two 
years  or  as  much  longer  as  they  can  make 
it." 

"Nonsense!"  His  lordship  was  bitter  in  his 
violence,  but  the  girl  arose  to  face  his  accuser 
with  an  even  greater  bitterness. 

"I  knew,"  she  began,  "that  you  had  only  a 
further  humiliation  in  store  for  me " 

252 


THE   PAST   OF   HIS   LORDSHIP 


His  lordship  sought  to  interrupt.    "But  my 

dear " 

She  turned  upon  him  with  quiet  dignity. 
"No,  no — ^you  need  make  no  denial  for  your- 
selves. Can  you  think  I  would  believe  that 
absurdity?"  She  haughtily  faced  Pike  once 
more.  "And  you!  Do  you  think  I  would  be- 
lieve that  an  English  noble  would  stoop " 

Pike  stepped  tensely  before  her  with  a  look 
of  contempt  that  halted  her  words. 

"Stoop!  I'll  tell  you  how  low  he  stooped! 
Ten  years  ago  in  St.  Petersburg  there  was  a 
poor  devil  of  a  revolutionist  who  in  his  crazy 
patriotism  took  government  money  for  the 
cause  he  believed  in.  He  made  the  mistake 
of  keeping  that  money  in  his  house  when  this 
man  knew  it  was  there."  Amazingly  his  hand 
pointed  to  the  Earl  of  Hawcastle.  Once  more 
the  light  of  his  lordship's  smile  had  faded  out 
leaving  merely  a  mouth  unhandsomely  dis- 
torted, a  face  strained  and  ashen.  "He  made 
the  other  mistake,"  continued  Pike  rapidly,  "of 

25S 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

having  a  wife  that  this  man  coveted  and  stole — 
as  he  coveted  and  stole  the  money.  Oh,  he 
made  a  good  job  of  it!  Don't  think  tonight 
is  the  first  time  he's  given  information  to  the 
police.  He  did  it  then — after  he  had  the  vi^if e 
and  money — and  the  husband  went  to  Si- 
beria  " 

"A  dastardly  slander !"  His  lordship's  voice 
rang  with  outraged  innocence. 

" — and  he'll  do  it  again  tonight"  con- 
tinued Pike.  "I  go  to  an  Italian  jail — "  he 
suddenly  swung  his  outstretched  hand  toward 
the  curiously  rigid  figure  of  the  Comtesse 
Champigny — "and  by  the  living  God,  that 
woman's  poor  devil  of  a  husband  goes  back 
to  Siberia." 

"It's  a  ghastly  lie!"  shouted  his  lordship. 
Madame  de  Champigny  had  shivered  under  a 
cry  of  fright, 

"You  came  for  your  answer,"  said  Pike. 
"Here  it  is."    He  called  sharply.    "Ivanoff !" 

A  door  was  opened  and  the  Russian  ap- 

254 


THE   PAST   OF   HIS   LORDSHIP 

-pesLTed,  The  gaunt  figure  was  motionless  a 
moment  while  the  glittering  eyes  in  the  worn 
face  took  in  the  room  and  its  occupants.  Then 
a  hand  flew  to  clutch  his  throat  as  if  it  would 
strangle  the  sharp  cry  that  broke  from  it.  The 
Comtesse  de  Champigny,  first  in  his  path  as 
he  now  slowly  advanced,  fell  to  her  knees  with 
a  httle  shuddering  sob.  The  Russian  lifted 
both  his  clenched  fists  above  her,  but  they  did 
not  descend,  although  the  watchful  Pike 
stepped  toward  him. 

"Ivan!  Oh,  Mother  of  God!  Ivan!  Don't 
kill  me!" 

The  clenched  fists  wavered,  then  fell  weakly 
as  the  Russian  seemed  to  collapse  into  the 
chair  before  which  he  had  halted.  His  head  in 
his  hands  he  sobbed  chokingly.  The  woman, 
huddled  at  his  feet,  moaned  piteously. 

Horace  started  toward  her.  "Helene!"  he 
called.  He  found  himself  against  the  out- 
stretched arm  of  Pike. 

"You    keep    back;    she's    his    wife.     And 

255 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

there — "  he  turned  upon  the  Earl  of  Haw- 
castle — "there  stands  his  best  friend." 

"It's  a  lie!  I  never  saw  the  man  before  in 
my  life!"  His  lordship  was  perhaps  less  ef- 
fective of  manner  now  than  we  have  ever  seen 
him. 

Pike  gestured  grimly  toward  the  huddled 
woman  before  them.  "The  lady  seems  to  recog- 
nize him." 

But  his  lordship  had  regained  a  proper  in- 
dignation. "Almeric,  go  for  the  policCo  Call 
them  quickly !"  Madame  de  Champigny  pain- 
fully brought  herself  to  her  feet  to  face  him. 
"No!  no!  I  can't,"  she  pleaded. 

Pike  had  gone  to  Ivanoff  and  now  stood 
with  a  hand  on  his  shoulder, 

"Call  them  in — ^we're  ready."  Then  he 
spoke  to  the  wretchedly  drooping  girl.  "But 
I  want  you  always  to  remember  that  I  consid- 
ered it  cheap  at  the  price."  In  an  agony  of 
shame,  she  turned  from  him,  then  turned 
again  from  another — from  Madame  de  Cham- 

256 


THE   PAST   OF   HIS   LORDSHIP 

pigny  who  was  making  a  slow,  frightened 
progress  toward  the  Earl  of  Hawcastle. 

"Almericl"  again  shouted  his  lordship. 

The  Honorable  Almeric  went  quickly  to  the 
double  doors  and  threw  them  open.  "Tell 
that  officer  to  bring  liis  men  in  here,"  he  called. 
There  was  a  tense  pause  as  steps  were  heard, 
but  the  Honorable  Almeric  fell  back  in  blank 
amazement  as  there  briskly  entered  not  the 
carabiniere  he  had  expected  but  the  smiling 
Herr  von  Grollerhagen.  He  halted  as  he 
quietly  surveyed  the  group. 

"There  will  be  no  arrests  tonight,  my 
friends,"  he  announced,  still  smiling. 

His  lordship  called  again  in  a  mounting  rage 
of  impatience.  "Do  as  I  say,  Almeric!  This 
man  goes  too!"  He  indicated  the  German 
whose  urbanity  thereupon  seemed  to  wax  in 
brilliance. 

"The  officer  is  not  there — ^the  carabiniere 
have  been  withdrawn,"  he  remarked  almost 
placatingly.    He  tm-ned  to  Pike.    "For  your 

257 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 


sake,  my  friend,  I  have  relinquished  my  incog- 
nito." His  friend  received  this  with  a  puzzled 
dropping  of  the  jaw.  The  German  turned 
to  his  lordship.  "The  man  Ivanoff  is  in  my 
custody  now." 

His  lordship  became  as  nearly  violent  as  is 
seemly  in  one  of  noble  birth. 

"By  whose  authority?  Do  you  know  that 
you  are  speaking  to  the  Earl  of  Hawcastle?" 

Our  young  Monsieur  Ribiere  had  closely  fol- 
lowed his  master  and  was  now  receiving  the 
latter's  coat  and  hat.  He  turned  quickly  to 
his  lordship. 

"More  respectful,  monsieur.  You  are  ad- 
dressing his  Highness,  the  Grand  Duke  Vasili 
of  Russia!"  Even  Lady  Creech  heard  him. 
Ribiere  was  unlikely  to  mumble  his  words  on 
the  few  occasions  when  it  was  permitted  him 
to  announce  his  employer's  rank. 

"Respectful!"  murmured  Pike— "and  think 
what  I've  been  calling  him!" 

The  recent  German  flourished  a  cheerful 

258 


THE  PAST   OF  HIS   LORDSHIP 


hand  toward  him.  "It  has  been  refreshing,  my; 
friend."  He  turned  to  the  waiting  Ribiere. 
"I  shall  take  Ivanoff 's  statement  in  writing  at 
once.  Bring  him  with  you."  I^e  turned  curtly 
and  went  out  past  the  valet  who  had  opened 
the  door  for  him.  Ribiere  w  aited  with  an  ex- 
pectant glance  at  the  fugitive,  then  went  to 
touch  him  on  the  shoulder.  "His  Highness 
will  take  your  statement,"  he  said. 

Dazedly  the  Russian  arose  to  follow.  Again 
Madame  de  Champigny  shrunk  toward  his 
lordship  with  a  cry  of  fear.  The  eyes  of  the 
Russian  for  a  brief  moment  blazed  upon  her 
from  his  haggard  face.  "I  would  not  touch 
you,"  he  called  hoarsely, — "not  even  to  strangle 
you."  His  gaze  passed  to  the  Earl  of  Haw- 
castle.  "But  God  will  let  me  pay  my  debt  to 
himr  He  followed  Ribiere  with  head  once 
more  bowed. 

In  the  silence  that  ensued  his  lordship  be- 
came aware  of  the  steady  gaze  of  Miss  Ethel 
Simpson.    There  was  that  in  it  which  puzzled 

259 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

him.  He  looked  down.  He  saw  that  he  had 
for  some  moments  been  holding  a  chair  before 
him  with  the  firmness  that  one  would  grasp  a 
defensive  weapon.  The  girl's  eyes  were  now 
resting  inscrutably  upon  the  chair.  He  cast 
it  from  him  ungently — ^ungratefully,  it  might 
be  said.  Then,  choking  with  sudden  rage,  he 
advanced  a  step  toward  Pike.  "Why, 
you " 

But  Pike  himself  had  advanced  and  now 
spoke  almost  genially.  "Oh,  I  hated  to  hand 
this  to  you,  my  lord.  I  didn't  come  over  here 
to  make  the  fine  flower  of  Europe  any  more 
trouble  than  they've  got.  But  I  had  to  show 
John  Simpson's  daughter.  And  I  guess  now 
she  isn't  wanting  any  alliance  with  the  rem- 
nants of  Crecy  and  Agincourt." 

The  girl  came  close  to  him,  flushed,  eager, 
tremulous.  She  spoke  with  a  wondrous  hu- 
mility yet  there  was  no  doubt  that  she  meant 
the  very  surprising  words  she  uttered.  "But 
I  have  no  choice,"  she  protested.    "Don't  you 

260 


THE  PAST   OF   HIS   LORDSHIP 

see?  I  gave  Almeric  my  promise  when  I 
thought  it  was  an  honor  to  bear  his  name.  Now 
that  you  have  shown  me  it  is  a  shame  to  bear 
it,  the  promise  is  only  the  more  sacred.  The 
shame  is  not  his  fault."  She  raised  to  him  eyes 
that  were  moist  with  her  imploring.  "You — 
you  want  me  to  be — honorable — don't  you?" 

Pike  shivered  as  from  a  blow,  looking  about 
him  with  dazed  eyes.  Then  he  brought  him- 
self to  stare  at  her.  After  a  long,  startled 
look  he  managed  to  say,  in  a  voice  that  was 
feeble  indeed,  "I  know  you  didn't  come  from 
Missouri — ^but  your  father  and  mother  must 
have  both  come  from  there,  didn't  they?" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

LORD  HAWCASTLE  DISPLAYS  THE  BETTER 
PART  OF  VALOR 

At  an  early  hour  the  following  morning  the 
Earl  of  Hawcastle  in  travelling  suit  and  cap 
rather  impatiently  admonished  a  porter  of  the 
Regina  Margherita  who  seemed  to  fumble  with 
the  straps  of  a  travelling  bag  just  outside  the 
stately  portals  of  that  hostelry.  In  addition 
to  this  bag  there  were  other  impediments  of 
travel,  a  hat-box,  a  strapped  rug  and  lesser 
bags,  surrounding  his  lordship.  He  now  di- 
rected the  conveyance  of  these  to  the  gate  at 
which  a  carriage  had  just  halted.  The  porter 
laboriously  bedecked  himself  with  them — seem- 
ing to  evince  arms  where  none  commonly  are — 

262 


THE    BETTER    PART    OF    VALOR 

and  precariously  footed  a  toilsome  way  to  the 
gate. 

The  manner  of  his  lordship  was  nervous, 
even  apprehensive,  and  wary  to  an  extreme. 
He  turned  swiftly  at  the  sound  of  approaching 
steps  but  emitted  a  relaxing  breath  as  his  son 
lounged  to  the  doorway.  The  manner  of  the 
Honorable  Almeric  betrayed  no  apprehension 
whatever.  Through  the  smoke  of  his  cigarette 
he  surveyed  his  troubled  parent  with  a  genial 
serenity. 

"Ah,  Governor!    See  you're  movin'." 

"It  depends,"  snapped  his  lordship  with  an 
uneasy  glance  into  the  hotel. 

"Depends?  I  say!  Madame  de  Champigny 
took  the  mornin'  boat  to  Naples,  your  trunks 
are  gone  and  there  go  your  bags.  Shouldn't 
say  that  looked  much  like  dependin'."  The 
Honorable  Almeric  smiled  en  joy  ably  at  this 
shrewd  bit  of  penetration. 

"It  does,  though,"  persisted  his  lordshi] 
"with  that  devilish  convict  about " 

263 


THE   MAN  FROM   HOME 

"But  I  say,  you're  not  in  a  funk  about  him, 
are  you,  Governor?  You  could  bowl  the  chap 
over  with  one  finger." 

Again  his  lordship  glanced  warily  over  his 
shoulder.  "Not  if  he  should  have  what  he 
didn't  have  last  night — or  I  shouldn't  be  here." 

"You  don't  think  the  beggar' d  be  taking  a 
shot  at  you?"  The  Honorable  Almeric  was 
interested  at  last. 

"I  don't  know  what  the  crazy  fool  mightn't 
do." 

"But  you  know  he's  really  quite  as  much  in 
custody  as  you  could  wish.  That  Vasilivitch 
chap  has  got  him  fast  enough."  He  turned  at 
the  approach  of  Lady  Creech.  "Hasn't  he, 
Aunty?" 

"The  Grand  Duke  Vasili,"  continued  his 
lordship  bitterly,  "has  the  reputation  of  being 
a  romantic  fool.  I  don't  know  what  moment 
he  may  decide  to  let  the  fellow  loose." 

Lady  Creech  stepped  forward  to  speak  with 
triumphant  indignation. 

264 


THE    BETTER    PART    OF    VALOR 

"I  have  the  advantage  of  you,  Hawcastle — 
he's  just  done  it." 

His  lordship  was  startled.    "What?" 

"Got  him  a  pardon  from  Russia  by  tele- 
graph." 

"Outrageous!   You  don't  mean  it." 

"Ethel  has  just  told  me." 

"God!"  said  his  lordship  with  simple  elo- 
quence. He  took  a  quick  step  toward  the  gate 
and  the  waiting  carriage.  "Then  I  must  drive 
to  Castellamare  for  the  train." 

"An  outrage  indeed,"  echoed  Lady  Creech, 
"and  our  plans  all  so  horribly  upset." 

His  lordship  paused  for  a  quick  word  of  en- 
couragement. "You  must  see  it  through,  you 
mustn't  let  the  thing  fail.  What's  more,  you've 
got  to  hurry  it  just  as  if  I  were  here.  The  girl 
gave  her  word  last  night  that  she'd  stick,  re- 
member!'* 

"She's  behaving  very  peculiarly  this  morn- 
ing," warned  her  ladyship.  "In  fact,  out- 
rageously would  be  nearer  the  word." 

fi65 


THE  MAN   FROM   HOME 

"How?" 

"Shedding  silly  tears  over  this  dreadful 
Ivanoff's  story.  What  is  more,  she  has  sent 
that  impossible  Pike  person  to  him  with 
money — money ^  do  you  understand.  I  couldn't 
find  out  how  much  but  I'm  sure  it  was  a  lot." 

"By  Jove!"  The  Honorable  Almeric 
beamed  upon  them  with  sudden  inspiration. 
"But  she's  buying  the  beggar  off — ^what! — to 
keep  him  from  making  a  row  for  us !" 

His  lordship  was  instantly  cheered.  "That's 
precisely  what  she's  trying  to  do!" 

"Then  why  need  you  go  if  the  dear  girl  is 
doing  that  so  thoughtfully?"  queried  Lady 
Creech. 

"Because  I'm  not  sure  she  can.  Wire  me 
at  the  Bertolini,  Naples,  if  she  succeeds.  By 
Jove,  this  shows  she  means  to  stick!" 

"To  be  sure — for  the  sake  of  her  promise." 

"And  for  the  sake  of  the  name,"  added  his 
lordship  and  was  gone. 

The  latter  half  of  his  frankly  hurried  prog- 
266 


THE    BETTER    PART    OF    VALOR 

ress  to  the  carriage  was  noted  by  Mr.  Pike  as 
he  sauntered  around  the  corner  of  the  hotel 
from  an  early  morning  inspection  of  the  motor- 
car he  had  supposed  to  be  the  property  of  a 
casual  German.  He  bent  a  curiously  un- 
troubled gaze  upon  the  back  of  the  retreating 
Earl  and  remarked  thoughtfully.  "Your  Pa 
seems  in  a  hurry." 

Lady  Creech  raked  him  with  her  best  glare 
and  progressed  haughtily  into  the  hotel.  The 
Honorable  Almeric  replied  cheerfully  enough, 
**Oh,  yes,  possibly.  He's  off  to  catch  a  train. 
The  Governor's  so  easily  worried  by  trifles." 

Pike  regarded  this  unruffled  descendant  of 
the  St.  Aubyns  with  a  sort  of  chuckling  ad- 
miration. "Well,  you  don't  worry  yourself — 
not  too  easy ;  do  you,  son?" 

The  Honorable  Almeric  yawned  cheerfully. 
"One  finds  nothing  in  particular  to  bother  one 
this  morning,"  he  affirmed. 

"Nothing  at  all?"  queried  Pike,  somewhat  in 
awe. 

267 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

"Not  I,  at  least,"  insisted  the  cheerful  one. 
"Of  course  Miss  Ethel  is  standing  by  her 
promise." 

"Of  course  she  is,"  agreed  Pike.  "You 
didn't  think  she'd  go  and  break  her  word  to  you, 
did  you?" 

"Certainly  not!  But  you  see  the  Governor 
thought  it  best  to  clear  out  a  bit  until  we  make 
certain  she  manages  to  draw  off  this  convict 
chap." 

Pike  was  at  once  both  puzzled  and  inter- 
ested. "Draw  him  off!" 

"Yes — ^what  you  Americans  call  'affixing' 
him,  isn't  it?" 

^'Af-fbdng  him?  Say,  don't  try  to  talk 
United  States,  son.  Just  try  to  tell  me  in  your 
own  way." 

The  Honorable  Almeric  appeared  to  writhe 
in  the  throes  of  mental  effort  out  of  considera- 
tion for  this  slowness  of  wit  in  the  curious 
American. 

"Well,  she's  been  giving  him  money,  hasn't 

268 


THE    BETTER    PART    OF    VALOR 


she?  You  took  it  to  him  yourself,  didn't  you? 
Naturally,  we  should  understand  what  it  was 
for,  shouldn't  we?  She's  trying  to  keep  the 
beggar  quiet  with  his  bally  gossip." 

Now  there  was  awe  in  the  glance  of  Pike. 
"So  that's  what  she  sent  this  poor  devil  the 
money  for,  was  it?" 

"What  other  reason  could  there  be?"  re- 
torted the  Honorable  Almeric  with  a  ring  of 
triumph. 

"Well,  you  know  I  sort  of  gathered" — 
Pike's  tone  was  clumsily  apologetic — "that  it 
was  because  she  was  sorry  for  him,  thought  he'd 
been  wronged  a  whole  lot — ^but  of  course  I'm 
stupid  in  those  matters." 

"Well,  rsL'ther!  I  don't  know  that  it  was  so 
necessary  for  her  to  shut  him  up,  but  it  jolly 
well  showed  a  very  worthy  intention  in  her, 
didn't  it,  now?" 

"Would  you  mind,"  himibly  asked  Pike,  "my 
being  present  when  you  thank  her  for  it?" 

"Shouldn't  in  the  least,  my  dear  chap,  if  I 
269 


THE  MAN   FROM   HOME 

intended  thanking  her.  It  simply  shows  she 
akeady  considers  herself  one  of  us.  It's  per- 
fectly plain — "  The  speaker  suffered  another 
inspiration.  He  chuckled  enjoyably  and  point- 
ed his  stick  at  Pike.  "Why — it's  as  plain  as 
you  are!" 

Pike  sighed  regretfully,  despairingly.  "Oh, 
if  I  could  only  get  you  over  to  Kokomo!"  A 
moment  he  dwelt  fondly  on  some  secret  vision, 
"So  that's  why  you're  not  worrying  this  morn- 
ing, is  it?"  he  suddenly  demanded. 

"Worrying?"  The  Honorable  Almeric 
seemed  to  recall  that  the  world  was  still  too 
much  with  him.  "By  Jove,  that  reminds  me. 
My  good  man,  do  you  mind  excusing  me? 
There's  a  most  likely  bull-pup  in  the  village. 
Had  him  in  mind  for  a  fortnight,  now,  and  I 
shall  get  him  at  once.  Some  other  chap  might 
snatch  him  up.  Good  morning!"  With  a 
cordial  wave  of  his  stick  he  took  the  path  at  a 
sprightly  gait,  the  music  of  his  cheerful  whistle 
floating  back.     Gazing  after  him  Pike  shook 

270 


THE    BETTER    PART    OF    VALOR 

liis  head  with  a  half-admiring,  half -sardonic 
chuckle.  The  Honorable  Almeric  had  provid- 
ed not  the  least  of  those  rude  shocks  Mr.  Pike 
had  been  compelled  to  endure  since  his  arrival 
at  Sorrento. 

At  the  sound  of  steps  he  turned.  The  figure 
of  Miss  Ethel  Simpson  had  framed  itself  in  the 
doorway  of  the  Regina  Margherita.  It  was 
his  first  view  of  the  girl  since  the  previous  night 
when  she  had  tearfully  implored  his  approval 
of  her  steadfastness.  She  was  no  longer  tear- 
ful, though  her  saddened  eyes  still  seemed 
timidly  to  beseech  him  as  he  approached 
her. 

"I  hear  that  Lord  Hawcastle  has  left  the 
hotel,"  she  remarked  mournfully. 

"Yes;  I  saw  him  go,"  Pike  dryly  answered. 
The  girl's  eyes  were  down  and  he  surveyed  her 
with  a  vast  comic  dismay  which  he  quickly 
masked  with  a  look  of  concern  as  she  raised 
her  eyes  again. 

"He  left  very  quickly." 
271 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"He  did  seem  to  be  overlooking  all  this  pret- 
ty scenery." 

"He  was  afraid  of  Ivanoff."  She  uttered 
this  discreetly,  as  if  she  were  favoring  Pike  con- 
fidentially with  an  item  that  might  astonish 
him. 

He  made  no  comment  on  this.  "I  had  your 
note  with  the  money  for  Ivanoff.  It  broke  the 
poor  fellow  all  up,  but  I  told  him  you'd  be  hurt 
if  he  didn't  take  it." 

"I'm  so  glad  of  that."  She  smiled  wanly  at 
him. 

"And  now  he  wants  to  thank  you  before  he 
goes.    May  I  bring  him  here?" 

"But  of  course! — though  I  hope  he  won't 
be — Oh,  not  too  thankful." 

"You  can't  expect  him  to  be  exactly  mad  at 
you/'  suggested  Pike  as  he  turned  away.  She 
smiled  sadly  again  while  he  could  observe  it, 
but  then  the  smile  faded  and  she  watched  his 
retreating  figure  with  eyes  in  which  dwelt  a 
curious  startled  wonder. 

272 


THE    BETTER    PART    OF    VALOR 


She  was  distracted  from  this  gaze  by  the 
noisy  exit  from  the  hotel  of  a  horde  of  servants, 
led  by  Mariano  and  Michele.  They  formed  a 
double  line  from  the  door  and  waited  breath- 
less, their  bodies  alert  for  bowing.  Young 
Michele  in  his  eagerness  already  made  little  be- 
ginnings of  bows,  restraining  himself  each 
time.  An  observer  might  have  remarked  that 
he  was  muttering  to  himself  continuously.  The 
girl,  wondering  what  this  preparation  portend- 
ed, strolled  to  a  nearby  table.  The  waiting 
group  held  itself  rigid  for  a  breathless  moment, 
then  bent  ceremoniously  at  its  centers  as  the 
false  von  GroUerhagen  emerged  from  the 
hotel.  He  frowned  at  the  bobbing  lines  and 
made  an  abrupt  gesture  of  dismissal.  Mariano 
shooed  his  cohorts  into  the  hotel,  reserving  for 
himself  a  final  polished  bow  of  submission  be- 
fore he  followed  them. 

The  embarrassed  Miss  Simpson  made  the 
deep  curtsey  the  newcomer's  rank  might 
justify. 

273 


THE  MAN   FROM   HOME 

"Not  your  he  gaily  protested,  taking  her 
hand.  "You  see," — he  waved  despairingly  to- 
ward the  hotel — "I  must  fly  to  some  place 
where  an  incognito  will  be  respected.  If  I 
stay  here  it  will  be — ^what  you  call — all  fuss 
and  feathers  and  revolutionary  agents.  I  look 
now  to  make  my  adieux  to  your  guardian.  In- 
cognito or  out  of  it  he  is  my  very  good  friend 
— "  There  was  a  quick  little  sharpening  of  the 
glance  he  bent  upon  her.  " — ^no  matter  if  he 
is  an  egotist." 

''An  egotist!"  She  had  flamed  instantly. 
"That  is  the  last  thing  in  the  world  he  should 
be  called." 

"Ah  so !"  He  regarded  her  now  with  a  genial 
shrewdness.    "And  what  do  you  call  him?" 

"I?  I— I  call  him—"  She  had  begun 
bravely  enough,  but  blushed  and  stopped  under 
his  searching  eyes. 

"Ah,  bravo!"  He  smiled  understandingly. 
"And  I — I  call  him  an  egotist  because  he  is  so 
content  to  be  what  he  is  that  he  will  not  pre- 

274 


THE    BETTER    PART    OF    VALOR 

tend  to  be  something  else.  I  respect  your 
country  in  him,  my  dear  young  lady,  though  he 
cares  nothing  whether  I  am  a  noble  or  a  com- 
moner." She  was  blushing  more  deeply,  for 
he  had  said  this  thing  with  deep,  serious  ques- 
tioning of  her  in  his  eyes.  It  was  as  if  he  had 
added — "There  be  Americans  who  prefer  to  be 
thought  something  else." 

"No;  I  can't  imagine  him  caring  about  the 
rank  of  people.  He  seems — seems — "  She 
was  floundering  pitifully  as  Pike,  accompanied 
by  Ivanoff ,  returned  through  the  grove.  She 
silently  blessed  him  for  the  relief. 

"Ah,  my  friend!  I  have  come  to  bid  you 
good-bye.  Life  is  a  series  of  farewells,  they 
say;  but  if  ever  you  come  to  Petersburg  when 
I  am  there  you  shall  be  made  welcome.  Your 
ambassador  will  tell  you  where  to  find  me." 

"I  know  I'd  be  welcome,"  responded  Pike 
with  deep  conviction.  "And  if  you  ever  get 
out  our  way,"  he  continued  cordially,  "don't 
miss  Indiana  and  don't  miss  Kokomo.    Any 

275 


THE   MAN  FROM  HOME 

depot  hackman  will  tell  you  where  to  find  me, 
and  the  boys  will  help  me  show  you  a  good 
time.  Really,  you'd  like  it.  Doc — "  He 
stopped,  horrified  at  this  "break"  as  he  would 
have  termed  it.  The  other  trembled  with  a  vast 
but  silent  laugh. 

"I  know  I'd  like  it,"  he  said  at  last. 

"I  don't  just  know  how  to  call  you  by  name," 
continued  the  apologetic  Pike,  "but  I  guess 
you'll  understand  that  I  do  think  an  awful  lot 
of  you." 

The  other  seized  his  hand  and  controlled  his 
laugh.  "My  friend,  I  have  confided  to  you 
that  you  are  a  great  man.  But  a  great  man  is 
sure  to  be  set  upon  a  pedestal  by  some  pretty 
lady."  Only  Miss  Ethel  Simpson — ^who  turned 
away — caught  the  flicker  of  his  eyes  toward 
her.  "And  it  is  a  great  responsibility  to  oc- 
cupy a  pedestal.  On  that  account  I  depart  in 
some  anxiety  for  you." 

Pike  frowned  his  bewilderment  at  this. 
"What  do  you  mean?" 

276 


THE    BETTER    PART    OF    VALOR 


"Ah,  you  do  not  understand?  Then,  my 
friend — what  is  it  you  have  taught  me  to  say? — 
Ah,  yes — then  there  is  sand  in  your  gear-box." 
With  another  great  laugh  he  turned  from  the 
puzzled  American,  bowed  deeply  to  the  girl, 
gave  his  hand  with  quick  seriousness  to  Ivanoff 
who  stood  by,  hat  in  hand,  and  went  quickly 
into  the  hotel.  Mariano  in  the  doorway  bowed 
low  as  he  passed,  a  bow  of  brimming  gratifica- 
tion. At  last  the  Hotel  Regina  Margherita 
was  not  to  lose  the  honor  of  having  it  known 
that  the  Grand  Duke  Vasili  of  Russia  had 
favored  it  with  his  patronage. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MR.   PIKE  CROSSES  A  CERTAIN  RIVER 

As  the  most  exalted  of  the  Hotel  Regina 
Margherita's  guests  vanished  into  the  cool 
gloom  of  its  foyer  the  haggard  Russian  who 
had  looked  so  gratefully  after  him  turned  to 
Miss  Simpson. 

"Dear  kind  young  lady,  your  guardian  has 
known  how  to  make  me  accept  the  help  you 
granted.  He  has  known  how  because  his  heart 
is  like  yours,  full  of  goodness.  Now  I  shall  go 
to  London  and  teach  the  languages.  There  I 
shall  be  able  to  repay  you — at  least  what  you 
have  given  in  money." 

The  girl  frowned  studiously  down  at  a  tile 
as  she  asked,  "Professor  Ivanoff,  are  you  fol- 
lowing Lord  Hawcastle  and  your  wife?" 

278 


MR,    PIKE   CROSSES   A    RIVER 

"My  wife  exists  no  longer  for  me." 

"But  Lord  Hawcastle?  Do  you  mean  to  fol- 
low him?" 

"No,  no,  no!  I  would  not  hurt  his  body — 
I  could  not.  The  suffering  of  a  man,  it  is  here 
— here!"  He  clutched  his  head  with  his  thin 
hands.  "What  is  it  he  has  of  most  value  in  this 
world?  It  is  that  name  of  his.  Except  for  that 
he  is  poor — and  that  I  shall  destroy.  He  shall 
not  go  into  his  clubs ;  he  shall  not  go  among  his 
own  class,  and  on  the  streets  they  shall  point 
at  him.  His  story  and  mine  will  be  made — Ah, 
but  too  well  known.  And  that  name  of  which 
he  and  all  his  family  have  been  so  proud,  it 
shall  be  disgrace  and  dishonor  to  bear." 

"Already  it  is  that."    She  still  looked  down. 

The  other  seemed  to  shake  off  his  bitterness. 
"But  I  forget  myself — I  talk  so  ugly!" 

"It  is  not  in  my  heart  to  blame  you — ^your 
wrongs  have  given  you  the  right." 

The  Russian  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips.  "It 
is  so  good — freedom — I  shall  pray  God  for 

279 


THE  MAN   FROM  HOME 

you,"  he  murmured.  "And  you — "  He  turned 
to  Pike.  Twice  he  essayed  speech,  then  clutch- 
ed his  throat  with  the  familiar  gesture,  dumb- 
ly shook  his  head  and  fled  into  the  hotel.  In 
silence  they  watched  him  go. 

"There  are  some  good  people  over  here, 
aren't  there?"  ventm-ed  Pike. 

The  girl  looked  up  at  him  almost  brightly. 
"Yes,  and  when  you're  home  again  I  hope  you 
will  remember  them." 

"I  wiU." 

"And  I  hope  you  will  forget  everything  IVe 
ever  said." 

He  appeared  to  debate  this  gravely.  "Some- 
how it  doesn't  seem  as  if  I  very  likely  would." 

She  took  a  little  step  toward  him,  a  lift  in 
her  voice.  "Oh,  yes  you  will.  All  those  un- 
kind things  I  have  said  to  you " 

"Oh,  I'll  forget  those  easy." 

She  continued  eagerly,  a  hint  of  tears  in  her 
voice.  "And  the  other  things,  too,  when  you're 
once  among  your  kind,  good  home-folks  you 

280 


MR.    PIKE   CROSSES    A    RIVER 

like  so  well.  And  probably  there's  one  among 
them  you'll  be  glad  to  get  back  to,  so  glad 
you'll  hardly  know  you've  been  away — an  un- 
worldly girl — "  she  faltered  at  this,  but  went  on 
more  earnestly.  " — one  that  doesn't  need  to  be 
cured — Oh,  of  all  sorts  of  follies,  a  kind  girl, 
one  that's  always  been  sweet  to  you."  She 
turned  impulsively  to  him.  "I  can  see  her — 
she  wears  a  white  muslin  and  waits  for  you  by 
the  gate  at  twilight — isn't  she  like  that?" 

He  eyed  her  whimsically.  "White  muslin! 
In  Kokomo?  Do  you  think  we're  that  far 
back?"  He  evaded  her  glance  again. 

**But  there  is  someone  there,"  she  insisted; 
" — someone  you've  cared  for?" 

He  nodded  gravely  to  this.  "Well,  she's  only 
been  there  in  a  way.  I've  had  her  picture  on 
my  desk  for  a  good  while.  Sometimes  when  I 
go  home  of  an  evening  she  kind  of  seems  to  be 
there.'*  He  paused  for  a  moment,  gazing  oiit 
to  the  far,  fair  islands  in  that  shining  bay.  "I 
bought  a  homely  old  house  up  on  North  Elm 

S81 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

Street — in  fact  it's  the  house  you  were  born  in. 
It's  sort  of  lonesome  there  sometimes,  and 
then  I  get  to  thinking  that  she's  there,  maybe, 
sitting  at  an  old  piano  that  used  to  be  my 

mother's — singing  to  me " 

"Singing — singing  *  Sweet  Genevieve'?" 
"Yes,  that's  my  favorite."  His  gaze  was 
still  out  over  the  water.  "But  then  I  come  to, 
you  see,  and  I  find  it  isn't  so — no  voice  comes 
to  me,  and  there  isn't  anyone  there  but  me — " 
He  swallowed  painfully,  then  brightened  as  he 
faced  her  " — and  it's  so  foolish  that  even  Jim 
Cooley  can  write  me  letters  making  fun  of 
it." 

The  girl  herself  now  gazed  far  out  to  sea. 
"You'll  find  her  some  day— someone  to  fulfill 
that  vision,  I  mean — and  I  shall  think  of  you  in 
your  old  house  among  the  beech-trees.  I  shall 
think  of  you  often  with  her,  listening  to  her 
voice  in  the  twilight.  And  I  shall  be  far  away 
from  that  sensible,  kindly  life — ^keeping  the 
promise  I  have  made — "  She  herself  now  swal- 

282 


MR.    PIKE   CROSSES   A    RIVER 

lowed  painfully  " — and  living  out — my  des- 
tiny." 

Pike  became  suddenly  alert.  "What  des- 
tiny?" 

"Oh,  but  I  am  bound  to  Almeric  in  his  mis- 
fortime — I  am  bound  to  him  by  his  misfor- 
tune." She  narrowed  her  eyes  on  the  pros- 
pect, drew  a  long  breath  and  went  on  with  a 
sort  of  sorrowful  eagerness.  "He  has  to  bear 
a  name  that  will  be  a  by-word  of  disgrace,  and 
it  is  my  duty  to  help  him  bear  it,  to  help  him 
make  it  honorable  again ;  to  inspire  him  in  the 
struggle  that  lies  before  him  to  rise  above  it 
by  his  own  efforts;  to  make  a  career  for  him- 
self; to  make  the  world  forget  the  disgrace  of 
his  father  in  the  light  of  his  own  triumphs — in 
the  product  of  his  own  work '* 

"Work!"  Had  she  glanced  at  the  speaker 
she  would  have  seen  that  he  was  aghast.  With 
her  eyes  at  sea,  however,  she  caught  only  the 
amazement  in  his  voice. 

"Oh,  I'm  all  American  today,"  she  contin- 

283 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

ued.  "No  matter  how  humbly  he  begins,  it 
will  be  a  beginning,  and  no  matter  what  it  may 
mean  to  me  now  I  must  be  by  his  side  helping 
him  with  all  my  energy  and  all  my  strength. 
Can  you  challenge  that?  Isn't  it  true?"  Yet 
there  was  no  challenge  in  her  own  glance  as  she 
now  turned  it  upon  him.  Rather  curiously  it 
was  almost  imploring,  as  if  she  hoped  for  ob- 
jections. 

Mr.  Pike  seemed  dense  to  this  mute  appeal. 
"I  can't  deny  it,"  he  said  simply.  "That's  what 
any  good,  brave  woman  ought  to  feel." 

There  was  a  catch  in  her  voice  as  she  desper- 
ately went  on,  "And  since  it  has  to  be  done  it 
ought  to  be  done  at  once.  Poor  Almeric — ^I've 
not  seen  him  since  last  night." 

"He's  not  here  just  now,"  said  the  sympa- 
thetic Pike.  Neither  of  them  observed  brother 
Horace  as  he  drew  near  from  the  hotel  gate. 
Horace  slashed  viciously  with  his  stick  at  inno- 
cent flowering  shrubs  and  appeared  to  be  vast- 
ly perturbed.    He  paused  unobserved  now  and 

284 


MR.   PIKE   CROSSES   A    RIVER 


listened.  He  seemed  to  be  in  one  of  his  least 
amiable  moods. 

"I've  shirked  facing  the  poor  fellow  today," 
the  girl  went  on  mournfully.  "He  has  always 
been  so  light  and  gay  that  I've  dreaded  to  see 
him  bending  under  this  blow — shamed  and 
overcome.  Now  it  is  my  duty  to  see  him,  to 
show  him  how  he  can  hold  up  his  head  in  spite 
of  it." 

"I  agree  it's  your  duty."  Pike  gravely  in- 
clined his  head. 

She  was  eager  and  tremulous  at  this.  "That 
means  that  you — my  guardian — think  I  am 
right?" 

"I  agree  to  it,  I  said." 

"Then  that  must  mean  that  you  con- 
sent— "  She  broke  oflF  under  the  excitement 
of  this. 

"It  does,"  said  Mr.  Pike  blandly.  "I  give 
my  consent  to  your  marriage." 

"You  dor  She  was  shocked,  frightened,  in- 
credulous.    He  in  his  turn  might  have  seen 

285 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

that  she  was  aghast,  but  he  did  not  look  at 
her. 

"I  place  it  all  in  your  hands,"  he  said.  "You 
see  your  duty — ^who  am  I  to  keep  you  from 
it?" 

Brother  Horace,  it  seemed,  had  endured 
quite  enough  of  this.  He  flashed  between 
them,  a  superbly  tailored  figure  of  wrath.  ''I 
protest,"  he  exclaimed.  "She's  talking  like  a 
romantic  schoolgirl,  and  I,  for  one,  won't  bear 
it — I  won't  allow  it.    I  tell  you " 

His  sister  checked  this  vehemence  with  a 
piteous  half -choked  sob.  "Too  late!"  she 
cried.  "He's  consented!"  She  fled  from 
them,  a  handkerchief  to  her  brimming  eyes. 
There  had  been  perhaps  both  dismay  and  a 
strange  resentment  in  her  tone.  Horace  con- 
tinued furiously  to  Pike. 

"I  tell  you  I  shall  not  permit  that  girl  to 
throw  herself  away." 

"Look  here,  are  you  the  guardian  of  this 
girl?"    Mr.  Pike  was  truculent. 

236 


MR.   PIKE   CROSSES   A    RIVER 

"A  magnificent  guardian  you  are!"  Horace 
himself  became  magnificent  in  his  wrath. 
"You — you  come  here  to  protect  her  from 
something  you  thought  rotten — and  now  when 
we  all  know  it's  rotten,  you  hand  her  over."  He 
ended  with  a  wide  gesture  of  relinquishment 
imputed  to  Pike,  and  a  laugh  of  extreme  bit- 
terness. Then  at  once  a  new  suspicion  assailed 
him.  "By  Jove!  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if 
you  consent  to  the  settlement  too!" 

Mr.  Pike  had  become  solemn  under  the  out- 
burst. "My  son,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  I 
did." 

Horace  gasped,  yet  contrived  to  point  an 
accusing  finger  at  the  other. 

"Have  I  gone  crazy?  Is  the  world  turned 
topsy-turvy?  Why,  you  haven't  even  a  sense 
of  humor!" 

Pike  drooped  his  whole  body  and  bowed  his 
head  as  if  in  confession.  His  shoulders  heaved 
in  testimony  of  his  guilt. 

Horace  surveyed  him  with  a  pitying  disgust. 
287 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

"Wait  till  she  hears  of  it,"  he  said  threaten- 
ingly. "I'll  bet  my  soul  that  will  disgust  her 
as  much  as  it  does  me." 

Mr.  Pike  recovered  and  very  gravely  made 
answer.  "My  son,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if 
it  did." 

Something  cryptic  Horace  found  in  this. 
He  stared  at  the  other  in  frank  bewilderment. 
"By  the  Lord!  but  you  play  a  queer  game,  Mr. 
Pike!" 

Mr.  Pike  yawned  rather  pointedly  and 
dropped  to  a  friendly  bench. 

"Oh,  I'm  just  crossing  the  Rubicon,"  he 
confided  to  the  shocked  Horace.  "Your  father 
used  to  have  a  saying:  *If  you're  going  to  cross 
the  Rubicon,  cross  it! — don't  wade  out  to  the 
middle  and  stand  there;  you  only  get  hell  from 
both  banks.' "  He  yawned  again,  taking  al- 
most no  pains  to  conceal  the  process  from  his 
listener. 

Lady  Creech,  normally  indignant  though 
flustered,  called  testily  to  Horace  from  the 

288 


MR,    PIKE   CROSSES   A    RIVER 

hotel  door.  "Mr.  Granger-Simpson,  have  you 
seen  my  nephew?" 

But  Horace  had  endured  much.  The  strain 
had  told  arid  he  was  in  no  mood  to  be  accosted 
testily  even  by  her  ladyship.  "No;  I've  rather 
avoided  that.  Lady  Creech,  if  you  don't  mind 
my  saying  so." 

"Mr.  Granger-Simpson!" 

The  smouldering  resentment  of  Horace  was 
blown  to  flame.  "I'm  sorry,  Lady  Creech,  but 
I've  had  a  most  awful  shaking-up  and  I'm 
almost  thinking  of  going  back  home  with  Mr. 
Pike.  I  rather  think  he's  not  far  from  right  in 
some  of  his  ideas,  at  least.  And  then  we 
abused  him,  not  only  for  himself  but  for  his 
vulgar  friend;  yet  his  vulgar  friend  turned  out 
to  be  a  grand  duke — "  Horace  drew  a  long 
shivering  breath  and  took  the  plunge — "and 
look  at  what  our  friends  have  turned  out  to 
be!" 

Lady  Creech  came  as  near  to  gasping  as  one 
of  her  station  should  and  lifted  a  bony  length 

289 


THE  MAN  FROM   HOME 

of  nose  in  his  direction  as  he  stalked  into  the 
hotel. 

Once  more  Lady  Creech  would  have  gapped, 
perhaps  frankly  this  time,  but  the  voice  of  the 
Honorable  Almeric  was  borne  to  her  from  the 
grove,  a  cheerful  voice  lifted  in  encouragement. 

"Come  along!  There's  a  good  fellow!"  he 
called. 

"Almeric!"  called  her  ladyship  sharply. 

"Here  he  comes — shamed  and  bending  imder 
the  blow,"  murmured  Pike,  eliciting  but  a  side 
glance  of  deep  resentment  from  Lady  Creech. 

The  Honorable  Almeric  approached  gaily 
from  the  grove.  He  proudly  led  an  uncertain 
puppy  and  seemed  artlessly  concerned  that  the 
whole  world  should  rejoice  in  his  treasure. 

"Mariano!  Mariano!"  he  called.  Then  he 
beamed  upon  her  indignant  ladyship.  "I  say. 
Aunty,  ain't  he  rippin'?  Lucky  I  got  there  just 
as  I  did — a  bounder  wanted  to  buy  him  five 
minutes  later.  Luck,  what!"  He  hailed  Mariano 
who  had  hastened  at  his  call.  "I  say,  Mariano, 

290 


3IR.    PIKE   CROSSES   A    RIVER 

tliink   you   can   be    trusted   to    wash    him?" 

"Wash  heem!"  Mariano  lifted  appealing 
hands  to  invoke  the  notice  of  Heaven  upon 
this  affront  to  his  dignity.  He  murmured  a 
sacred  name. 

"Tepid  water,  you  know,  and  mind  he 
doesn't  take  cold — ^you  must  dry  the  little 
beggar  carefully;  and  just  a  little  milk  after- 
wards— nothing  else  but  milk,  you  under- 
stand.   Be  deuced  careful,  I  mean  to  say!" 

"Signore,  I  will  give  him  to  a  porter  to  be 
cared  for."  Mariano  gingerly  lifted  the  pulpy 
thing  and  bore  it  before  him  into  the  hotel.  His 
lips  moved  silently  as  he  went. 

Lady  Creech  now  regarded  her  nephew 
chillingly.  The  gaze  of  Pike  from  his  bench, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  cordiality  itself. 

" Aimer ic!  Really,  there  are  more  important 
things,  you  know." 

Almeric  became  serious.  "Important,  my 
word !  But  you  don't  seem  to  realize  I  might 
have   missed  him   altogether.     I   think   I'm 

291 


THE   MAN   FROM  HOME 

rather  to  be  congratulated,  you  know,  what!" 

Mr.  Pike  had  arisen  lazily  from  his  bench 
and  came  forward.  "I  think  you  are,  my  son* 
I've  given  my  consent  to  my  ward's  marriage 
with  you." 

The  Honorable  Almeric  seemed  slightly 
bored.  "But  of  course — ^you  jolly  well 
couldn't  do  anything  else,  could  you  now?" 

"And  the  settlement?"  quickly  interposed 
Lady  Creech,  with  a  ready  wit  going  to  the 
kernel  of  the  nut. 

Pike  waved  generously.  "The  settlement, 
too — everything.  I  saw  I  couldn't  oppose 
her."    He  shrugged  helplessly. 

"Couldn't  oppose  us,  I  dare  say  you  mean." 
amended  her  ladyship.  "But  how  much  more 
graceful  to  have  given  your  consent  at  once 
when  you  saw  we  were  not  ones  to  be  opposed. 
However,  you  Americans  are  so  weird.  And 
how  glad — ^how  relieved — dear  Ethel  will  be!" 

"You  can  tell  her  the  glad  news  right  now," 
suggested  Pike.    "There  she  comes!" 

292 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN   WHICH   A  SONG   IS  SUNG 

The  girl  approached  them  ahnost  timidly. 
Her  eyes  were  dry  but  burned  with  a  curious 
luster  as  they  rested  on  the  Honorable  Al- 
meric.  "You  are  so  brave,"  she  murmured, 
quite  mechanically  and  so  low  that  no  one 
thought  of  replying  to  her.  Lady  Creech  en- 
folded her  in  an  overjoyed  embrace.  It  was 
dignified,  yet  it  carried  discreet  hints  of  rol- 
licking, for  her  ladyship  was  vastly  relieved. 

"Ethel,  my  dear,  my  dear!"  she  murmured. 

The  Honorable  Almeric  yawned  cheerfully. 
"Didn't  I  tell  you  it  would  be  all  plain  sailin'. 
Aunty?  There  was  nothing  to  worry  about. 
The  donkey  chap  was  bound  to  give  in,  wasn't 
he?"    He  regarded  Pike  with  genial,  quite  un- 

29s 


THE  MAN   FROM   HOME 

malicious  triumph.  After  all,  he  bore  the  fel- 
low no  grudge.  He  was  not  the  unforgiving 
sort. 

"I  am  so  pleased,  my  child — so  pleased  at 
your  good  fortune.  The  sky  has  cleared  won- 
derfully. Everything  is  settled  at  last!" 
Thus  Lady  Creech  continued  to  murmur  to 
the  girl. 

"Yes;  it's  all  over,"  conceded  Miss  Simpson 
rather  inscrutably.  "My  guardian  has  at  last 
consented  to  the  marriage." 

There  was  a  strange  waiting  look  in  the 
eyes  of  Pike  as  he  watched  the  two,  a  waiting 
that  somehow  seemed  to  be  appeased  when  he 
observed  that  the  Honorable  Almeric  was 
moved  to  speech. 

"Of  course  I  never  worried  about  it,"  he 
cheerfully  assured  all  who  listened.  "But  I 
fancy  it  will  be  a  weight  off  the  Governor's 
mind.  I'll  see  that  a  wire  catches  him  at 
Naples.  He'll  be  jolly  glad  to  know  that  you 
succeeded  with  the  arrangement  about  that 

294 


IN   WHICH  A    SONG   IS   SUNG 


convict  chap,  too.  Everything  rippin',  what!" 
Miss  Simpson  stood  forth  from  the  still- 
sheltering  arm  of  Lady  Creech  and  addressed 
her  fiance  in  tones  that  might  have  been 
thought  to  carry  the  faint  flavor  of  rebuke. 
"Almeric,  I  think  it's  noble  to  be  brave  in 

trouble,  but  there " 

The  Honorable  Almeric  made  no  efforti 
whatever  to  conceal  his  bewilderment. 

"I  say,  you  know,  you've  really  got  me!'* 
Mr.  Pike  here  turned  his  gaze  out  over  the  shin- 
ing waters  as  if  the  scene  at  hand  were  too 
sacred  to  be  overlooked. 

"I  mean  I  admire  you  for  your  pluck,"  con- 
tinued the  girl  eagerly,— "for  your  seeming  un- 
concern under  disgrace,  but " 

"Disgrace!"  The  Honorable  Ahneric  help- 
lessly looked  his  puzzled  appeal  to  each  face 
in  the  group.  "Why,  who's  disgraced  ?  What 
silly  rot!  Not  even  the  Governor,  as  I  see  it. 
You  got  that  convict  chap  called  off,  didn't 
you?" 

295 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

The  girl  was  puzzled  in  her  turn.  "What 
are  you  saying,  Almeric?" 

"Why,  that  convict  chap — didn't  you  send 
him  out  of  the  way?  Bought  him  off,  didn't 
you,  so  the  rotter  wouldn't  talk  about  his  silly 
affairs?  I  mean  to  say,  gave  him  money  not 
to  bother  us?"  he  concluded,  for  he  had  noted 
a  rising  bewilderment  in  the  girl's  staring  eyes. 

"Why,  Heaven  pity  you!  Do  you  think 
that?"  she  asked  in  a  voice  so  low  that  it  could 
hardly  have  reached  the  inattentive  Mr.  Pike, 
though  his  eyes  at  that  moment  flitted  from 
one  to  another  of  the  misty  islands  far  out  in 
that  painted  sea. 

The  Honorable  Almeric  was  quickened  to 
an  uncomfortable  suspicion. 

"Oh,  what?  You  couldn't  draw  him  off? 
He  wouldn't  agree  to  be  still?  I  say,  that  will 
be  rather  a  pill  for  the  Governor.  I  fancy 
he'll  be  a  bit  worried,  you  know." 

There  was  goading  in  the  glance  the  girl 
now  put  upon  him.    "Don't  you  see  that  it's 

296 


IN   WHICH   A    SONG   IS   SUNG 

time  for  you  to  worry  a  little  for  yourself? 
That  you've  got  to  begin  at  once  to  do  some- 
thing worthy  that  will  obliterate  this  shame — 
to  begin  a  career — to  work — to  work!" 

"Begin  a  career!"  The  Honorable  Almeric 
was  aghast  at  this  vehement  grotesquerie. 
"Work?"  he  continued  dazedly.  "But  I  mean 
to  say — what  for?  What  possible  need  will 
there  be  for  an  extreme  like  that?  Don't  you 
see,  in  the  first  place,  there's  the  settle- 
ment  " 

He  had  thought  himself  lucid,  painstaking, 
kindly,  but  the  girl  interrupted  him  with  a  cry 
ahnost  of  rage.  "Settlement!  You  talk  of  a 
settlement — now!"  Her  hitherto  pale  cheeks 
suddenly  glowed  with  a  tint  to  rival  the  flam- 
ing sea  at  which  Mr.  Pike  so  attentively  gazed, 
but  he  did  not  turn  his  head.  The  Honorable 
Almeric  seemed  to  lose  an  ordinarily  capable 
control  of  his  lower  jaw.  His  eyes  widened 
with  dismay.  Lady  Creech  somewhat  snap- 
pishly uttered  the  reply  he  was  unequal  to. 

297 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

"Settlement?  Certainly  there's  the  settle- 
ment!" 

"What  for?"  Miss  Simpson  had  controlled 
her  tones  to  a  metallic  hardness. 

Lady  Creech  descended  to  explanation. 
"Why,  don't  you  understand,  my  dear  child? 
You're  to  be  the  Countess  of  Hawcastle,  aren't 
you?" 

The  Honorable  Almeric,  though  but  half 
recovered,  again  became  vocal. 

"Hasn't  your  American  chap  told  you  quite 
all  about  it?  The  only  obstacle  on  earth  be- 
tween us  was  this  fellow's  consent  to  the  set- 
tlement, and  he's  just  given  it.  I  mean  to 
say,  I  heard  his  very  words !" 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  he's  consented  to  that?" 
Her  eyes  blazed  from  the  Honorable  Almeric 
to  the  man  who,  to  all  appearances,  was  still 
absorbed  with  the  perspective  of  a  distant 
horizon. 

"He  jolly  well  did!  He  consented  with  his 
own  lips — didn't  you?"    He  turned  to  the  far- 

298 


IN    WHICH   A    SONG   IS   SUNG 

gazing  Pike  in  plaintive  appeal  for  confirma- 
tion of  this  simple  fact. 

The  latter  recalled  himself  with  difficulty 
from  a  choice  marine  spectacle.  "Oh,  that!" 
He  waved  a  careless  hand  and  bent  his  gaze 
again  on  his  vision.  "Certainly,  I  consented 
to  the  settlement,"  he  added. 

"Don't  you  see,"  prompted  Lady  Creech, 
almost  pleadingly.  "Don't  you  hear  him  ?  He 
didn't  mumble  his  words.  He's  consented. 
Our  troubles  are  over." 

Miss  Simpson  entreated  the  dreamy  profile 
of  her  guardian,  wishing  to  wither  him  with  her 
mounting  scorn.  But  the  profile  remained 
fixed  and  her  scorn  had  all  to  be  for  the  two 
before  her. 

"I  do  hear  him,  and  I  disbelieve  my  own 
ears.  Yesterday  when  I  wanted  something  I 
thought  of  value — and  that  was  a  name — he 
refused  to  let  me  buy  it.  Today  when  I  know 
that  that  name  is  less  than  nothing — worse 
than  nothing — he  bids  me  give  my  fortime  for 

299 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

it!  Oh,  what  manner  of  man  can  he  be.  And 
you?  Who  are  you  that  after  last  night  you 
come  to  me  and  ask  for  a  settlement?" 

The  Honorable  Almeric  stood  dazed  but  un- 
convinced. Lady  Creech  frowned  ably.  "Cer- 
tainly we  ask  a  settlement !  Would  you,  simple 
American  girl  that  you  are — after  all — expect 
to  enter  a  family  such  as  ours  and  bring  noth- 
ing?" 

The  Honorable  Almeric  was  again  inspired, 
this  time  by  the  girl's  overwhelming  consterna- 
tion. He  strove  for  a  sane  and  reasoned  mild- 
ness. "I  can't  see  that  the  situation  has 
changed  since  yesterday,"  he  began  easily. 
"But  of  course,  if  you  think  it  has  changed,  I 
fancy  I  wouldn't  be  the  bounder  to  stick  out 
for  the  precise  amount  the  dear  old  Governor 
named.  Dare  say  there's  a  lot  to  be  said  on 
both  sides.  I  mean  to  say,  if  you  think  that 
silly  settlement  ought  to  be  something  less  on 
account  of  that  little  affair  last  night,  why,  we 
should  be  the  last  people  in  the  world  to  haggle 

300 


IN   WHICH  A   SONG  IS  SUNG 

over  a  few  thousand  pounds.  I  fancy  you've 
misunderstood  our  attitude,  what!" 

Mr.  Pike's  head  went  a  trifle  forward  as  if 
he  would  strain  his  eyes  to  outline  some  en- 
gaging bit  of  a  distant  promontory. 

"Oh,  Oh !"  It  was  a  cry  of  strangely  mingled 
rage  and  relief  that  rang  from  the  throat  of 
Miss  Simpson.  "Oh,  that  is  the  final  word  of 
my  humiliation.  I  felt  that  you  were  in  shame 
and  dishonor,  and  because  of  that  I  was  ready 
to  keep  my  word — ^to  stand  by  you,  to  help  you 
make  yourself  into  a  man — ^to  give  my  life  to 
you.  That  you  permitted  the  sacrifice  was 
enough !  Now  you  ask  me  to  pay  for  the  privi- 
lege of  making  it.  Understand — I  am  re- 
leased— I  am  free."  She  paused  for  a  blast- 
ing glance  at  the  man  who  was  still  engrossed 
with  Nature  in  one  of  her  loveliest  aspects.  "I 
am  not  that  man's  property  to  give  away!" 

Lady  Creech  fell  into  panic  violence.  "You 
are  beside  yourself.  Isn't  this  what  we've 
wanted  all  along?    Your  wits  have  gone." 

801 


THE   MAN   FROM   HOME 

She  was  ably  upheld  by  the  Honorable  Al- 
meric.  "But  I  say,  slow  up  a  bit.  Didn't  you 
say  with  your  own  lips  that  you'd  stick? 
Didn't  you  now?" 

The  girl  faced  him  with  a  dull,  smouldering 
rage.  "Any  promise  I  ever  made  to  you  is  a 
thousand  times  cancelled."  There  was  some- 
thing deadly  in  the  slow  fall  of  the  words.  She 
stepped  toward  Pike  with  a  sudden  blazing 
concentration.  "And  as  for  you — never  pre- 
sume to  speak  to  me  again.  This  is  final." 
The  nature-lover  seemed  not  to  have  heard,  so 
profound  was  his  absorption. 

"Give  me  your  arm,  Almeric."  Lady  Creech 
had  recovered  the  aplomb  a  St.  Aubyn  should 
never  lose.  She  drew  her  nephew  toward  the 
hotel.  The  latter  was  mumbling  words  which 
Lady  Creech  took  no  pains  to  have  repeated. 

"Most  extrord'n'ry  girl,  my  word!  Rather 
dreadful,  isn't  she?  Fancy  I  know  what  it  is, 
though — ^thinks  too  much.  Caught  her  at  it 
scores  of  times — goes  about  quite  all  over  the 

302 


IN   WHICH  A   SONG  IS  SUNG 

place — thinkin',  thinkin' — unhealthy,  what!" 
The  mumble  died,  leaving  the  air  strangely- 
still. 

Miss  Simpson  had  watched  the  pair  depart 
with  a  quickening  impatience.  When  they  had 
gone  she  turned  abruptly — and  haughtily — to 
the  man  she  had  forbidden  ever  to  address  her. 
The  man  continued  interestedly  to  scan  the 
outlying  surface  of  the  Mediterranean.  She 
waited  what  time  she  could,  which  was  not 
long.  "What  have  you  to  say  to  me?"  she 
demanded. 

Pike  slowly  and  with  seeming  reluctance 
withdrew  his  gaze  from  mere  scenery.  "Noth- 
ing!" he  answered  with  a  nonchalance  that  fur- 
ther enraged  her. 

"What  explanation  have  you  to  make?" 

"None!"  It  was  not  a  good  word  for  drawl- 
ing, but  he  managed  it.  • 

She  flashed  instantly  to  a  new  bitterness. 
"That's  because  you  don't  care  what  I  think  of 
you.    Indeed,  you've  already  shown  that  when 

S03 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

you  were  willing  to  give  me  up  to  these  people 
— and  to  let  me  pay  them  for  taking  me. 
You  let  me  romanticize  to  you  about  honor 
and  duty  and  sympathy — about  my  efforts  to 
make  that — that  creature  into  a  man — and  you 
pretended  to  sympathize  with  me,  and  you 
knew  all  the  time  it  was  only — only  the  money 
they  were  after." 

He  did  not  drawl  now.  He  spoke  very 
humbly.    "Well,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised." 

"And  didn't  you  have  the  faintest  little  un- 
derstanding of  me — enough  to  see  that  their 
asking  for  money  now  would  horrify  me? 
Didn't  you  know  that  your  consenting  to  it — 
leaving  me  free  to  give  it  to  them — would  re- 
lease me — ^make  me  free  to  deny  everything 
to  them?" 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  I  had  seen  that." 
He  was  still  grave  and  very  humble. 

A  sudden  light  dazzled  the  girl.  "You 
mean  you've  been  saving  me  again  from  my- 
self, from  my  silliness,  from  my  romanticism — 

804. 


IN   WHICH  A   SONG  IS  SUNG 

that  you've  given  me  another  revelation  of  the 
falsity,  of  the  unreaUty,  of  my  attitude  toward 
these  people — toward  life  itself." 

He  raised  a  deprecating,  protesting  hand,  a 
gesture  that  somehow  was  warm  with  sym- 
pathy.   "No,  nol"  he  said. 

She  surveyed  him  with  wonder-widened 
eyes,  but  her  vehemence  had  not  died.  "You'd 
always  say  that — ^you'd  always  deny  it ;  it's  like 
you.  You  let  me  make  a  fool  of  myself  and 
then  you  show  it  to  me,  and  after  that  you 
deny  it."  She  was  tearful  now,  and  newly 
angry  because  of  it.  "You  are  always  exhibit- 
ing your  superiority.  Would  you  do  that  to 
the  dream  girl  you  told  me  of,  to  the  girl  at 
home  who  plays  dream  songs  for  you  in  that 
empty  house  among  the  beeches?"  There  was 
a  plaintive  note  in  her  anger  now.  "Do  you 
really  think  any  girl  could — could  love  a  man 
for  that?  Oh, — "  She  desperately  threw  out 
her  hands.  " — go  back  to  your  dream  girl, 
your  lady  of  the  picture  1" 

505 


THE  MAN   FROM   HOME 

"She  won't  be  there,"  he  said. 

"She  might  be !  She  might — "  She  stopped, 
breathless. 

"Oh,  there  isn't  any  chance  of  that,"  he  per- 
sisted mournfully.  "That  house  will  still  be 
empty." 

"Are  you  sure?"  The  tears  had  gone  from 
her  voice.     She  was  facing  him  defiantly. 

"There  isn't  any  doubt  in  the  world  of  it 
now." 

She  walked  slowly  toward  the  door  of  her 
rooms  in  the  ivied  wing.  On  its  threshold  she 
turned  to  look  at  him  again.  "You  might  be 
wrong  for  oncer  she  called.  There  was  almost 
a  hint  of  malicious  triumph  in  the  tones. 

He  looked  sadly  after  her  a  moment,  then 
shrugged  with  a  grimace  of  comic  dismay. 
"You  old  fool,"  he  pronounced  in  tones  of 
warm  conviction.  "You  might  have  known  all 
the  time."  Again  the  shrug  of  dismay.  Slowly, 
with  a  still  tender,  still  wistful  resignation,  he 
started  down  a  lonely  path  of  that  garden. 

306 


^Oh,  Genevieve,  sweet  Genevieve! 


IN   WHICH  A   SONG  IS  SUNG 

Three  steps  he  took,  then  halted  abruptly^, 
listening  with  an  almost  fierce  intentness. 

The  sounds  of  a  piano  vigorously  struck 
came  through  the  doorway  that  had  so  lately 
engulfed  Miss  Ethel  Simpson.  As  Pike 
listened  a  vast  incredulity  grew  in  his  face. 
Now  the  voice  of  one  singing  was  heard  and 
the  listener's  face  relaxed  from  its  stiffened 
lines  of  increduUty  to  a  softened,  almost  ap- 
palled wonder,  for  he  could  no  longer  doubt 
what  ballad  of  old  she  sang.  And  in  the  girl's 
singing  he  now  seemed  to  detect  an  alien  some- 
thing unfitted  to  the  song's  tender  melancholy ; 
nothing  less  than  a  preposterous  note  of  almost 
malicious  triumph,  as  if  she  were  again  crisply 
reminding  him — "You  might  be  wrong — for 
oncer  Slowly  a  look  of  half -doubting  rapture 
grew  in  his  eyes.  His  arms  unconsciously  wid- 
ened toward  the  doorway,  empty,  eager, 
patient. 

"Oh  Genevieve,  sweet  Grenevieve! 

The  days  may  come,  the  days  may  go .  .*." 

S07 


y  •  •  •  '  *  s  o< '  o*  \  •  • 


IN   WHICH  A   SONG  IS  SUNG 

Three  steps  he  took,  then  halted  abruptly!, 
listening  with  an  almost  fierce  intentness. 

The  sounds  of  a  piano  vigorously  struck 
came  through  the  doorway  that  had  so  lately 
engulfed  Miss  Ethel  Simpson.  As  Pike 
listened  a  vast  incredulity  grew  in  his  face. 
Now  the  voice  of  one  singing  was  heard  and 
the  listener's  face  relaxed  from  its  stiffened 
lines  of  incredulity  to  a  softened,  almost  ap- 
palled wonder,  for  he  could  no  longer  doubt 
what  ballad  of  old  she  sang.  And  in  the  girFs 
singing  he  now  seemed  to  detect  an  alien  some- 
thing unfitted  to  the  song's  tender  melancholy ; 
nothing  less  than  a  preposterous  note  of  almost 
malicious  triumph,  as  if  she  were  again  crisply 
reminding  him — "You  might  be  wrong — for 
oncer  Slowly  a  look  of  half -doubting  rapture 
grew  in  his  eyes.  His  arms  unconsciously  wid- 
ened toward  the  doorway,  empty,  eager, 
patient. 

"Oh  Genevieve,  sweet  Genevieve! 

The  days  may  come,  the  days  may  go .  .♦." 

807 


THE  MAN  FROM  HOME 

The  piquing  little  note  of  triumph  had  gone, 
though.  And  her  voice  had  become  too  trem- 
ulous even  for  that  old  song. 

THE  END 


Thisbookisd»eonthe>as^^«:^P^  ,. 


(J60578l0)476— A-32 


^^^"^S^keley 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


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